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evim^l letters, ^ 



FROM 



Dr. HARTLEY, 

Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON, 

Mrs. MONTAGUE, 

Rev. WILLIAM GILPIN, 



RICHARD BAXTER, 
MATTHEW PRIOR, 
LORD BOLINGBROKE, 
ALEXANDER POPE, 
Dr. CHEYNE, 
GEORGE LORD LYTTLETON, Rev. JOHN NEWTON, 
Rev. Dr. CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN, &c. &c. 

WITH 

BIOGRAPHICAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 

EDITED BY 

REBECCA WARNER, 

Of Beech Cottage, near Bath. 



Blest be the gracious Powers, who taught mankind 

To stamp a lasting image of the mind ! 

Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, 

Their mutual feelings in the op'ning spiing; 

But Man alone has skill and pow'r to send 

The heai't's warm dictates to the distant friend : 

Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise, 

Ages remote, and nations yet to rise. Crahbe's Library. 



PRINTED BT 

KICHARD CRUTTWELL, ST. JAMES's-STREET, BATH ; 

AND SOLD BY 

1.0NGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATER- 
NOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 

1817. 



\ TO THE READER. 



'THHE only merit to which the Editor of a 
work^ like the following series of Let- 
ters, can possibly pretend, must arise, from 
industry in collecting materials, and some 
little exercise of judgment in selecting such, 
from among them as deserved to be presented 
to the public. As the Editor of the present 
publication has been aided, in both these 
respects, by the kindness of friends equally 
obliging and judicious, she flatters herself 
that this humble claim will be readily con- 
ceded to her. Nor can she doubt, that the 
Letters themselves will afford much gratifi*. 
cation to those into whose hands they may 
happen to fall ; since they were written, for 
the most part, by characters, who, in their 
time, stood high in the roll of literary fame ; 



[ iv ] 

or have been remarkable for talent, piety, or 
usefulness in their generation. Of there 
being all genuine, there is every moral cer- 
tainty : and that, with a very few excep- 
tions, they have never before been published, 
the Editor has every reason to believe. To 
the greater part of them are prefixed the 
rnames of those by whom they were written^ 
as well as of the persons to whom they were 
addressed. In some, however, the names of 
the writer or correspondent are omitted ; 
either because they could not be given with 
absolute confidence, or because motives of 
delicacy in the friends who communicated 
such letters, made them hesitate to allow the 
publication of the signatures of those, who, 
when alive, might, possibly, have shrunk 
from the idea of appearing before the world 
vmder the character of authors. 



CONTENTS. 



X£TTEK PAGE 

BIOGRAPHICAL Illustration of Richard Baxter 1 

I. From Richard Baxter to Dr. Allestree - - 4 

Biographical Illustration of Matthew Prior - 11 

II. From M. Prior to Lord Townshend - - - 13 

Biographical Illustration of Lord Bolingbroke - 14 

III. From Lord Bolingbroke to Sir Wm. Wyndham - 18 

IV. From ditto to ditto ----- 24 
V. From ditto to Sir Charles Wyndham - - 27 

VI. From ditto to ditto 32 

Biographical Illustration of Alexander Pope - 35 

VII. From Mr. Pope to Wm. Fortescue, efqj - 3/ 

VIII. From Mr. Gay and Pope to ditto - - - 39 

IX. From Mr. Pope to ditto - - - - 41 

X. From ditto to ditto ----- 43 

XI. From ditto to ditto - - - - - 44 

XII. From ditto to ditto 45 

XIII. From ditto to ditto - - - - - 47 

XIV. From ditto to ditto 49 

XV. From ditto to ditto - - - - - 50 

XVL From ditto to ditto - - - - - 51 

XVII. From ditto to ditto - - - - ^ 53 

XVIII. From ditto to ditto .^ ^ - ^ - 55 
XIX. From ditto to ditto - - - - - 5S 



8(5 



y[ CONTENTS. 

LETTER ^^^® 

Biographical Illustration of Dr. G. Cheyne 60 

XX. Frcm Dr. Cheyne to Mr. Richardson - 63 

XX [. From ditto to ditto . . m 65 

XXIL From ditto to ditto - - - - 70 

XXIII. From ditto to ditto ^ - - 75 

XXIV. From ditto to ditto - - - - 78 
XXV. From ditto to ditto _ - - - 8S 

XXVI. From *** to ditto, containing an Accoiint 

of Dr. Cheyne's Death 
Biographical Illustration of Dr. Hartley, 
David Hartley, and Mrs. M. Hartley - 69 

XXVII. From Mrs. M. Hartley to the Rev. Wm. 

Gilpin, enclosing two Letters of her 
Father's - - - - " '9^ 
XXVIII. From Dr. Hartley to his Sister Mrs. Booth 97 
XXIX. From ditto to ditto - - 

XXX. From Mrs. H. to the Rev. AVm. Gilpin, 

containing some Account of her Father's 
Life - - - - 

XXXI. From Dr. Hartley to his Son David Hart- 

ley, when setting out on his Travels - 1 1 1 

Biographical lllus'ration of H. A. Pistorius 121 
XXXII. From *^* to H. A. Pistorius, containing a 

brief Analysis of Dr. Hartley's Work - 122 

XXXIII. From Dr. Franklin to David Hartley, efq} 137 
Biographical Ilkistration of the Rev. Wra. 

Gilpin ------ 14,1 

XXXIV. From the Rev. Wm. Gilpin to Mrs. M. 

Hartley ....-- 143 
XXXV. From ditto to ditto " ' ' ' ^^^ 

XXXVI. From ditto to ditto - - 

XXXVIl. From ditto to ditto - - - ' ' 
XXXVIII. From Mrs. M. H. to the Rev. Wm. Gilpin 



99 



102 



J 48 
150 
153 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



LETTER PAGtf 

XXXVIII. From Mrs. M. H. to the Rev. Wm. Gilpin 153 

XXXIX. From ditto to ditto l63 

XL. From the Rev. Wm. Gilpin to *** -- - 167 

XLI. From ditto to ditto 169 

XLII. From ditto to ditto - - ,- - - 171 
XLIII. From ditto to ditto - - - - - 172 
XLIV. From ditto to ditto - - - - - 1 73 
Biographical illustration of Joseph Ameen - 175 
XLV. From Joseph Ameen to the Earl of Nor- 
thumberland - - - - 18D 
XLVI. From ditto to Prince Heraclius ?. - - 185 
XLV II. From ditto to his Father - - - - ]C|3 
Biographical Illustration of Dr. Sam. Johnson 
and Joseph Fowke, esq; - - - - 202 
XL VIII. From Dr. Sara. Johnson to Francis Fowke, esq; 205 



LII. From ditto to Joseph Fowke, esq; 
L. From ditto to Samuel Richardson 
LI. From Joseph Fowke, esq; to * "^ 
LIL From ditto to ditto - - - . - 
LIII. From Joseph Fowke, esq; - . - 

LIV. From ditto 
LV. From ditto - , - - . 

Biographical Illustration of Mrs. Montague - 

LVI. From Mrs. Montague to Mrs. Hartley 

J. VII. From Mrs. Hartley to ***, on the Death of 

Mrs. Montague - - . - . 

Biographical Illustration of the Rev. Dr. Jeans 

LVIII. From the Rev. Joshua Jeans to a Young Man 

on entering into Orders - - - - 

LIX, From the Rev. Dr. Jeans to ***, giving an 

Account of the Catastrophe at Leyden 

Biographical Illustration of the Rev. J. 

Newton ------. 



207 
209 
210 
226 

217 
219 
224. 
228 
231 

233 
236 

240 

' 243 



249 



y-jji CONTENTS. 

«• PAGE 

LETTER 

LX. From the Rev. J. Newton to Capt. and Mrs. 
Hansard - ' " 

Reference to the Rev. Dr. Buchannan's Life 255 
LXI. From Dr. C. Buchannan to *** ' - - 256 
LXII. From the same to the same - - 53 

LXIII. From ditto to T— E , esq; sen. - - i^J 

LXIV. From ditto to Miss E 

LXV. From ditto to T E , esq; sen. - : 2/0 

LXVI. From ditto to Mrs. E. ... - 272 

Gharader of Voltaire, by Frederick 2d, King 

" 270 

of Prussia - - " " " " i ' 

Biographical Illustration of George Lord 
Lyttleton -----"' 
LXVn. From Voltaire to George Lord Lyttleton - 280 
LXVIII. From Lord Lyttleton to Voltaire- - r 282 
Houghton Piftures , •. - • 
LXIX. *** to *** - - " - - 
LXX. From Dr. Glass to **« - - ' ' ^^^ 
I.XXL From the Rev. W. Jones, of Nayland, tp 299 



282 
284 
287 



ORIGINAL LETTERS, &c. 



RICHARD BAXTER. 



Richard Baxter, the author of the following Ifettet, 
was one of the most remarkable characters of the 
seventeenth century. Had he fallen on happier days, he 
would have been an ornament to literature, and a 
permanent benefit to rnankind ; but, Jjerpetually in- 
volved in religious polemics, and wasting his attain- 
ments in the discussion of " unprofitable questions," 
his voluminous works are for the most part buried in 
oblivion, and his memorial exists chiefly in the name 
of a connexion of rehgionists, who, from adopting his 
theological principles, are known by the denomination 
of Baxterians^ and hold a sort of middle path between 
Calvinism and Arminianism. He was born November 
12, 1615, at Rowton in Shropshire; and, after a life 
of seventy-six years, nearly fifty of which were passed 
amid vicissitudes, controversy, and persecutions, ex- 
pired on the 8th of December 1691 . Vacillating in his 
doctrinal notions, he was, notwithstanding, steady in 
his nonconformity ; which subjected him, more than 

B 



[ 2 3 

once, to apprehension and imprisonment. The kst 
occasion on which he incurred the notice of the law, 
was in 1685, when he was seized by a warrant granted 
by Judge Jefferies, and tried by that execrable per- 
verter of justice. The brutish vulgarity of Jefferies 
never appeared more conspicuously than on this trial. 
" Mr. Baxter being ill," says his biographer, " moved, 
^^ by his counsel, for time; but Jefferies said, he would 
" not give him aminute's time to save his life. Yonder 
" stands Gates in the pillory, says he; and if Mr. Baxter 
" stood on the other side, I would say, two of the greate&t 
" rogues in England stood there. He was brought to 
*' his trial May SOth, but the Chief Justice would not 
" admit his counsel to plead for their client. When 
" Mr. Baxter offered to speak for himself, Jefferies 
*' called him a snivelling, canting Presbyterian; and 
" said, Richard, Richard, don't thou think we will hear 
*' thee poison the court. Richard, thou art an old fel- 
" low, and an old knave; thou hast written books 
** enough to load a cart ; every one as full of sedition, 
'' I might say of treason, as an egg is full of meat : 
** hadst thou been whipped out of thy writing trade 
" forty years ago, it had been happy. Thou pretendest 
*' to be a preacher of the gospel of peace ; as thou hast 
" one foot in the grave, 'tis time for thee to begin to 
" think what account thou intendest to give ; but leave 
** thee to thyself, and I see thou wilt go on as thou hast 
" begun ; but, by the grace of God, I will look after 
•' thee. I know thou hast a mighty party, and I see 
" a great many of the brotherhood in corners, waiting 
*' to see what will become of their mighty Don ; and a 
*' Doctor of the party (Dr. Bates) at your elbow ^ but, 
*' by the grace of Almighty God, I will crush you all." 
Neale's History of the Puritans^ v. v, p. 6. I'he jury, 
mider the direction of the Judge^ found Baxter guilty ; 



[ 3 ] - 

and he was fined 500 marks, or to go to prison till he 
paid it. He continued in prison for two years, when 
the court changed its measures, and he was released. 
Dr. Calamj observes, that Baxter's works would " form 
"a library of themselves." His " Call to the Un- 
*' converted," and his " Saints' everlasting Rest," are 
still had in deserved esteem. Redrew up a '^ Reformed 
"Liturgy," which Dr. Johnson pronounced to be " one 
" of the finest compositions of the ritual kind he had 
" ever seen:" but if it be compared with the admirable 
services of our own excellent Book of Common- 
Prayer, it will be found to be sadly deficient in pathos, 
sublimity, and variety. 

The popularity of Baxter^s works in the seventeenth 
century was surprisingly great. " I remember," says 
Addison, in the 445th number of the Spectator, '^ upon 
" Mr. Baxter's death, there was published a sheet of 
" good sayings, inscribed. The Last Words of Mr, 
" Baxter. Tlie title sold so great a number of these 
** papers, that about a week after, there came out a 
" second sheet, inscribed, More Last Words of Mr, 
« Baxter.'* 

The curious original letter, from which the following 
is printed, was found in a second-hand copy of Zy w</f- 
mode's Provinciale, purchased, about 28 years ago, of 
Mr. CuthelJ, bookseller, Middle-row, Holborn. 



B 2 



[ 4 ] 



LETTER I. 



From RtCHARD Baxter to " the Rev. Dr. 
<* Richard Allestree, the King's ProfeS'^ 
" sour of TheologiCy at his Lodgings in Christ's- 
'' Church, Oxford:' 



SIR, t>ec. 20, 16t9. 

yl S your ingenuity giveth me full satisfaction, 
-^•^ I am very desirous to give you such just 
satisfaction concerning myself, that you may 
think neither better nor worse of me than I am : 
we old men are prone to have kinder thoughts 
of our childish old acquaintance than of later^ 
and to value most their esteem, whom we most 
esteem ; and the current report of your honesty, 
as well as knowledge, commandeth a great esti- 
mation of you from us all. I was before the 
warre offended much at the multitude of ignorant 
drunken readers, who had the care of souls, and 
the great number of worthy ministers who were 
cast out and ruined, and of serious Christians 
that were persecuted for praying together, an(J 



C 5 ] 

for little things. 1 was one of those that were 
glad that the Parliament, 1640, attempted a 
reformation of these things, which 1 expressed, 
perhaps, too openly. I lived in a town (Keder- 
minster) then famous for wickedness and drunk- 
enness. They twice rose against me, and sought 
to kill me. Once for saying the infants had 
original sin, &c.; and next time for persuading 
the churchwardens to execute the Parliament's 
order (the King's being yet with them) for 
defacing the images of the Trinity on the cross; 
when they knockt down two strangers for my 
sake, who carried it to their graves. Then the 
old Curate indited meat the assizers, I never heard 
for what, but I was forced to be gone. If any 
did but sing a psalm, or repeat a sermon in their 
houses, the rabble cried, Down with the Round- 
Heads, and were ready to destroy them ; so that 
the religious part of the town were forced to 
fly after me to Coventree, where we lived quietly ; 
but having nothing of their own, they were con- 
strained to become garrison soldiers, and I took 
my bare dyet, to preach once a week, refusing 
the offered place of chaplain to the garrison. 
The newes of 200,000 murdered by the Irish 
and Papist strength in the King's armies, and 
the great danger of the kingdom, was published 
by the Parliament; my judgment then was, that 
neither King nor Parliament might lawfully 



C 6 1 

fight against each other ; that dividing was 
dissolving and destroying; and only necessary 
defence of the constitution was lawful : but that 
the honum publicum was the essentiall end of 
government ; and though I thought both sides 
faulty, I thought that both the defensive part, and 
the salus populi, lay on the Parliament's side, and 
I very openly published and preached accordingly. 
The Parliament still professing, that they took 
not arms against the King, but against subjects, 
that not only fled from justice, but sought by 
arms to destroy the Parliament, &c. In a word, 
my principles were the same with Bishop Bil- 
son's (of subjection) and Jewet's, but never so 
popular as K. Hooker's. When I had stayed 
iri Coventree a year, my father in Shropshire 
was plundered by the King's soldiers, (who never 
was against the King or conformity.) I went 
into Shropshire, and he was for my sake taken 
prisoner to Linshull. I stayed at Longfoid 
garrison for two months, and got him exchanged 
for Mr. R. Fowler. In that time, the garrison 
being a little more than a mile distance, the sol- 
diers on each side used frequently to have small 
attempts against each other ; in which Judge 
Fiennes' eldest son was killed of our side, and 
one soldier of their side, and no more that I know 
of. I was present when the soldier was killed, 
the rest ran away and left him ; and other sol-- 



C V3 

diers hart him not, but offered him quarter, but 
he would not take it, nor lay down his armes : 
and I was one that bid him lay them down, and 
threatened to shoot him, but hurt him not, he 
striking" at me with his musket, and narrowly 
missing me. I rode from him; and Captain 
Holidaye, the governor, being behind me, shot 
him dead ; and it grieved me the more, because 
we afterwards heard that he was a Welshman, 
and knew not what we said to him. I never 
saw man killed but this; nor this indeed, for 
I rode away from him. Above twenty prisoners 
we there took, and all, save two or three, got 
away through a sinke-hole, and the rest were 
exchanged. I returned to Coventree, and fol- 
lowed my studies another year ; all that garrison 
abhorred sectarian, and popular rebellious prin- 
ciples. The Parliament then put out the Earl 
of Essex, and new-modelled their armies ; and 
srave Fairfax a new commission, leavino- out the 
King ; when before, all the commissions were, 
to fight for King and Parliament. Naseby fight 
suddenly followed: being near, I went, some daies 
after, to see the field and army ; when I came to 
them, (before Leicester,) divers orthodox captains 
told me, that we were all like to be undone, and 
all along of the ministers, who had all (save Mr. 
Bowles) forsaken the army : and the sectaries 
had thereby turned their preach ers^ and possessed 



C 8 1 

them with destructive principles against King, 
Parliament, and Church, And now they said, 
" God's providence had put the trust of the 
*^ people's safety in our hands, and they would, 
^* when the conquest was finished, change the 
^* government of Church and State, and become 
" our lords," This struck me to the heart ; I 
went 'mong them, and found it true. Hereupon 
they persuaded me yet to come among 'em, and 
gotWhally (then sober, and against those men) 
to invite me to his regiment, (the most sectarian 
and powerful in the army.) I went home to 
Coventree, and slept not till I had called toge- 
ther about twelve or more revfBrend ministers, 
who then lived there, (divers arp yet living,) and 
told them our sad case ^ and that I had an in- 
vitation, and was willing to vei)ture my life in a 
tryal to change the soldiers' mipds. They all 
consented. I promised presently to gpe. I 
asked leave of the committee and governnient, 
who consented. Before midnight the garrison 
reviled the committee for consenting. They 
sent for me again, and told me I must not goe, 
for the garrison would mutinie. I told them I 
had promised, and would goe. But I, (foolishly,) 
Jo satisfie them, told my reasons, which set Lieut.- 
Colonel Purefoy in a rage against me for so ac- 
cusing the army. The next morning I went, and 
ynet wjth the consequent of my errors for Crom- 



[ 9 1 

well had notice of what I had said, and came 
about before I could get thither: and I was 
met with scorn, (as one that came to save 
church and state from the army.) There I staid 
awhile, atid found, that Ijeing* but in one place 
at once I could doe little good. I got Mr. Cooke 
to come and help me, (who since helpt Mr. G. 
Booth into Chester for the King*, and was im- 
prisoned for it, though now he is silenced.) He 
and I spent our time in speaking and disputing 
against the destroyers ; and I so far prevailed as 
tp render the seducers in the regiment contemned, 
except in one troop, or a few more. I told the 
orthodox Parliament men of their danger. But 
Cromwell frustrated my cherished hope, and 
would never suffer me to come near the General, 
nor the head-quarters, nor himself, nor never 
once to speak to him. When the warre seemed 
over, I was invited home again ; but I called 
near twenty ministers together at Coventree, 
and told them that the crisis was not now far 
off; the army would shortly shew themselves 
in rebellion against King, the Parliament, and 
Church; and I was willing to venture my life to 
trie to draw off as many against them as I could. 
They voted me to stay. I went back, and it 
pleased God, that the very first day that they 
met in Nottingham in council, to confederate, as 
I foresaw, I was not only kept away, but finally 



[ 10 I 

separated from them, by bleeding almost to 
death, (120 ounces at the nose.) Had not that 
prevented it, I had hazarded my life at Triploe 
Heath, where they brake out, but had done 
little good ; for when the sober part then de- 
clared against them, they drew off about 5000 
or 6000 men; and Cromwell filled up their places 
with sectaries, and was much stronger than be- 
fore. All that I could do after was, to preach 
and write against them. This is a true account 
of the case of } our old friend, 

R. BAXTER, 

How little knew Mr. Durell how falsely he 
described my case at Kidderminster, I may not 
|iow stay you w^ith a narrative. 



[ 11 3 



MATTHEW PRIOR. 



- It is Doctor Johnson's observation, that " Prior has 
*' written with great variety, and his variety has made 
" him popular. He has tried all stiles, from the gro- 
" tesque to the solemn, and has not so failed in any as 
" to incur derision or disgrace." A singular resem- 
blance will be found between this description of his 
works, and the events of his life, and the character of 
his condu£l; the former being niarked by vicissitudes 
of elevation and depression; the latter, by public use- 
fulness, and private licentiousness. Born July 21, 1664, 
of parents sufficiently humble to have escaped the cer- 
tain knowledge of his biographer, he passed some 
time at Westminster school, under the care of the 
celebrated Dr. Busby ; and, engaging accidentally the 
notice of the witty Earl of Dorset, the Maecenas of his 
day, he obtained an academical education in St. John's 
college, Cambridge. In 1691, he resolved to try his 
fortune on that best theatre for the exhibition of talent, 
the Metropolis; where, attracting notice by some of 
his publications, he became an objeft of ministerial 
patronage, and was sent as secretary of the embassy to 
the Congress at the Hague; " an assembly," as Johnson 
" remarks, of princes and nobles, to which Europe has, 
" perhaps, scarcely seen any thing equal; where was 



t 12 ] 

•* formed the grand alliance against Louis the Four^ 
" teenth, which at last did not produce effects propor- 
•' tionate to the magnificence of the transaction.'* The 
favour of King William, which he gained by his di-» 
plomatic talents, and judicious application of poetical 
flattery, raised him to the office of Under Secretary of 
State, and afterwards to that of Commissioner of Trade, 
when he lost the secretaryship, by the removal of the 
Earl of Jersey. It was now that he changed his po- 
litics; left the Whigs, and became a Tory; a change 
which was afterwards rewarded by degradation from 
his political honours, and the discomfort of tempo- 
rary imprisonment. In the year 1713, Prior was an 
accredited plenipotentiary at the Court of France; 
where he continued to exercise the high duties of the 
situation, and to enjoy its honours, till August 1714, 
when the Tories fell, and our poet was involved in 
their disgrace. He remained in Paris, however, till 
the March following; and then returned to his country, 
only to experience the melancholy reverse, of appre- 
hension and confinement. It was during his stay in 
France, and after the change of the ministry, that he 
wrote the ensuing letter; a document which seems 
to contradict Johnson's assertion, " that he was not 
*' able to return to England, being detained by debts 
** which he had found it necessary to contract, which 
<' were not discharged before March :" since Prior does 
not even hint at such a cause of detention, in his 
confidential communication to Lord Townsend, Our 
poet seems to have been, like most other men, a mixed 
character; with some of the fire of genius, but more 
of its eccentricity: good natural principles, but occa- 
sional perversions of them: upright in the main, but 
led by circumstances, every now and then, into obliquity 
of conduct : in short, he seems to have exemplified 



r 13 ] 

in himself that pliability of conscience, which he has 
so well described in the following sprightly lines, 
attributed to his muse : 

For conscience, like a fiery horse. 
Will stumble, if you check his course 5 
But ride him with an easy rein. 
And rub him down with worldly gain, 
He'll carry you through thick and thin. 
Safe, although dirty, to your inn. 



LETTER rr. 

Froyn 31r. Prior to Lord Townsend. 

MY LORD, Fontainhleau, Oct, 12, 1714. 

TT Am sure you will not think that I make 
•^ you a compliment of form only, when I 
congratulate to you the honour of being secre- 
tary bond fide, I had rather you had the seals 
than any man in England, except myself; and 
I wish you all satisfaction and prosperity in the 
course of your business, and iu every part of 
your private life, I need not ask you for your 
favour; for, taking it for granted that you think 



[ J4 ] 

me an honest man, I assure myself of every 
thing from you that is goodnatured and generous. 
How long I am, or am not, to be here, or when 
I am to be recalled, your Lordship will soonest 
know; all that I can tell you upon that subject 
is, that our friend and ally Mr. Cunningham is 
mightily pleased with me. Pray, my Lord, do 
me all the good you can ; and if, as we say here, 
the names of party and faction are to be lost, 
pray get me pricked down for one of the first 
that is desirous to come into so happy an agree- 
ment. And as I know so good a design as the 
obtaining and ensuring peace suits admirably 
■well with the sweetness of your Lordship's tem- 
per, I'll take my oath on't it, graduates extremely 
well with my present disposition and circum- 
stances. I cannot presume to hope for the 
happiness of seeing you very soon ; for though 
I should be recalled to-morrow, I shall savour 
so strong of a French Court, that I must make 
my quarantine in some Kentish village, before 
I dare come near the Cock-pit. In every place 
and estate, I am, with great truth and respect, 

Your Lordship's 

Most faithful, most humble, and 
obedient servant, 

MATTHEW PRIOR. 



[ 15 3 



LORD BOLINGEROKE. 



That truth only is permanent, and that virtue alone 
can secure immortality to talent, is strikingly exem- 
plified in the fate which the philosophy and writings 
of Lord Bolingbroke have experienced; since now 
ihey are either entirely neglected, or remembered only 
to be reprobated or despised. " A graceful person," 
says Dr. Joseph Warton, " a flow of nervous eloquence, 
*' a vivid imagination, were the lot of this accomplished 
" nobleman ; but his ambitious views being frustrated 
'* in the early part of his life, his disappointments 
" embittered his temper ; and he seems to have been 
*' disgusted with all religions and all governments." 
Hence he became factious, discontented, and petulent, 
in his politics ; absurd, inconsistent, and impious, ia 
his religious speculations; and, though a patriot and 
Theist in profession^ he was, both in practice and 
principle, an enemy to legitimate power, a despiser of 
dignities, and a reviler of God. As an instance of the 
effects of his own dark system upon his moral conduct, 
it is sufficient to adduce his behaviour to Pope, bis 
friend and panegyrist ; whom he first degraded into 
the charader of a tool, and vehicle of his own de- 
strji6live notions, by insidiously furnishing him with 
the scheme of the Essay on Man^ the pernicious ten- 
dency of which the poet did not perceive ; and after. 
his friend was no more, employed the unprincipled 
Maiiet to calumniate his memory. *' Mallet," says 
Johnson, <* had not virtue, or had not spirit, to refuse 



[ 16 I 

" the office; and was rewarded, not long after, with the 
" legacy of Lord Bolingbroke's Works." These he pub- 
lished in a splendid edition of five volumes in quarto. 

Had the following letters contained the least taint of 
his Lordship's polluted opinions, they should not, not- 
withstanding their graceful ease, have found their way 
into the present volume; for, next to the guilt of those 
who coin profligate principles, we hold them to be most 
criminal who give them circulation^ by committing 
them to the press. 

Even during the temporary popularity of Lord 
Bolingbroke's writings, many able refutations of the 
principles contained in them were pnblished by the 
friends of religion and good order; but none more 
complete, satisfactory, and convincing, than the Letters 
of Dr. John Leland, in his View of Deistical Writers, 
from the commencement and close of which we beg 
leave to quote the following passages. 

*' The works Lord Bolingbroke had published 'in 
" his own life time, and which are republished in this 
*' (Mallet's) edition, had created a high opinion of the 
" genius and abilities of the author. In them he had 
*' treated chiefly concerning matters of a political 
'^ nature; and it were greatly to be wished for his own 
" reputation, and for the benefit of mankind, that he 
" had confined himself to subjects of that kind, in that 
" part of his works which he designed to be published 
•' after his decease. These his posthumous works make 
*' by far the greater part of this collection. His Letters 
" on the Stud]/ and Use of History ^ which were pub- 
" lished before the rest, and prepared the world not to 
"look for any thing from him, that was friendly to 
" Christianity or the holy Scriptures. But I am apt 
** to think, that the extreme insolence, the virulence 
" and contempt, with which, in his other posthumous 



[ 17 ] 

" works he bath treated those things that have been 
" hitherto accounted most sacred among Christians, 
*^ and the open attacks he hath made upon some 
"important principles of natural religion itself, have 
" exceeded whatever was expected or imagined. There 
*^ is ground to apprehend, that the quality and repu- 
" tation of the author, his high pretensions to reason 
" and freedom of thought, his great command of words, 
'^ and the positive and dictatorial air he every where 
" assumes, may be apt to impose upon many readers, 
" and may do mischief in an age too well prepared al- 
" ready for receiving such impressions." ^' Thus I 
" have considered what the late Lord Bolinijbrokehath 
" offered in these Letters against the authority of the 
*' holy Scripture, and the Christian religion, as far as 
" may be necessary to take off the force of the objec- 
" tions he hath raised against it, and which seem to 
" have nothing in them proportioned to the unusual 
" confidence with which they are advanced. It is hard 
" to see what good end could be proposed by such an 
" attempt. But perhaps it may be thought an advan- 
" tage, that by * discovering error in first principles 
" ' founded upon facts, and breaking the charm, the 
" ^ incbanted castle, the steepy rock, the burning lake, 
" * will disappear.'* And there are persons, no doubt, 
" that would be well pleased to see it proved, that 
*' Christianity is no better than delusion and enchant- 
" ment; and particularly, that the wicked have nothing 
'^ to fear from the burning lake,^ some apprehensions of 
*' which may probably tend to make them uneasy in 
'* iheir vicious courses. But I should think, that a true 
" lover of virtue, and of mankind, who impartially 
" considers the purity of the gospel morals, the exceU 

* See his Letter on the Use and Study of Retirement, vol. ii. 
p. aai. 

C 



r 18 ] 

" lent tendency of its doctrines and precepts, and the 
** power of its motives for engaging men to the prac- 
*^ tice of piety and virtue, and deterring them from 
*' vice and wickedness, will be apt to look upon it as a 
*' very ill employment, to endeavour to expose this 
*' religion to contempt, and to set bad men free from 
" the wholesome terrors it inspires, and deprive good 
" men of the sublime hopes and sacred joys it yields. 
** But Christianity hath withstood much more for- 
" midable attacks, and will, I doubt not, continue to 
" approve itself to those that examine it, and the 
*' evidences by which it is established with minds free 
^' from vicious prejudices, and with that sincerity and 
" simplicity of heart, that seriousness and attention, 
" which becomes them in an affair of such vast im* 
" portance." 



LETTER III. 



From Lord Bolingbroke (o Sir William 
Wyndham. 

Chantilly, Jan. 12, 1736. 

T Received yoursof the 22d of December, O.S. 
-*" this moment; and an opportunity of sending 
it to Paris to-morrow or Saturday being likely 
to present itself, I answer it instantly, in hopes 
it will be delivered by this safe conveyance, 



[ 19 1 

time enoiigli to be carried to you by Mr. Wynd- 
ham. My brother4n-law, who sets out this day 
for London, has one for you likewise. I did not 
doubt, my dear Sir William, of your approba- 
tion, when I writ the letter you mention. You 
are capable of feeling, that true spirit carries a 
man into retreat on some occasions, as it plunges 
him into all the bustle of the world on others. 
If I had not gone into England, and begun to 
settle and take root there again, when the late 
King drew me into the measure, if I may use 
such an expression, it is easy to imagine what 
my enemies, and even my friends, would have 
said, with appearances on their side. If I had 
taken my hand from the plough, when the late 
King died ; it is easy likewise to imagine what 
the same persons would have said, with reason, 
I think, on their side. If I continue to act any 
longer the same part as I ha\^e acted in England 
for some years past, and the only part I would 
act if I was there ; I know what judgment I 
should make of myself, and what every man of 
sense and spirit would make of me likewise. 

The wisest, the most decent, and the only 
dignified part I can take, is, therefore, that I 
have taken. I have taken it, and I will support 
it. The declared friend of my friends j the de- 
clared enemy of my enemies; ready to sacrifice 
myself at any time for the liberty and welfare 

c 2 



[ 20 ] 

of the country in which I was bom, and at all 
other times content and happy in the state of a 
philosophical cosmopolite, in the ordinary course 
of private life. You know how much indulgence 
I have for my passions, my fancies, my weak- 
nesses. How much it is, according* to my sys- 
tem, a part of wisdom to give great way to them, 
and pay little regard to common notions, received 
customs, and the quen diset on? so terrible to 
most persons. But in the great turns of private 
life, and in every part of public life, I condemn 
this indulgence ; and I respect the opinion of 
mankind, I mean that opinion which is founded 
in judgment, and will last j not the momentary 
applause of the vulgar. 

My whole scheme for the rest of my life is 
ready formed in my mind, and my mind im- 
moveably fixed to pursue it; but the affair which 
I recommend to you and Bathurst, is a prelimi- 
nary so necessary, that I cannot, without the 
communication of it, even begin to act and live 
as I propose to do, or at least with the ease and 
satisfaction I shall find, whenever this prelimi- 
nary is executed. I say no more on this head, 
but depend on you ; and expect to hear from 
you, as soon as you have thought, consulted, and 
informed yourself a little more about it. 

Though the project we have so often talked 
of for marrying Charles, be, in that one point of 



[ 21 ] 

view wherein I have considered it, extremely 
desirable; there is no doubt but it may cease to 
be so, when it is seen in another. You have seen 
it in that other, and you are, therefore, a much 
better j udge. He will be very easy in the matter. 
Nothing" could tempt him, but the prospect of an 
immense fortune; and, if I know him, he will 
prefer, even to that, the enjoyment of his liberty. 
Let me say one w^ord to you on this subject. 1 
have studied him this summer more than I ever 
did before. You will never g"ive him a turn for 
public business, but he has notions of virtue and 
honour strong about him ; and he is one of those 
nags whom you may guide with a thread, if you 
play with his mouth, but who will grow restive to 
the spur, and run away, if he is much checked. 

I come now to the article of your letter that 
relates to my Lord Gower. I agree that Mr. 
Leveson must know the language, so as to speak 
it with ease, before he can mix in the good 
company of this country with pleasure and profit. 
1 agree, likewise, that it will be necessary that 
he should wear off that aukward, shy habit, which 
our young fellows contract, and which his natural 
temper fortifies perhaps, before he can make 
such a figure in this company as it becomes him 
to make, and as it will be expected he should 
make, even at his first appearance. If he was 
at Paris, therefore, I should not advise producing 



. [ 22 ] 

him yet awhile in much company; and that I 
did produce him in, should be of a kind he would 
sooner assimilate with, than he would with the 
people of the Court, and of a certain rank and 
air of the world. But the objections against 
his being at Paris, drawn from the danger of his 
falling into the habits of his kinsman, and the 
other English, are strong, and, upon second 
thoughts, they seem to me decisive. 

The best resolution that can be taken, there- 
fore, is that of weaning him, by little and little, 
from the habits he has ; fitting him by little and 
little for the world, and introducing him by little 
and little into it ; and all this at a distance from 
his kinsman, and other English, who would con- 
firm his old habits, or teach him worse. 

By a letter which my wife has received from 
Lord Cornbury since I began this, I see that 
Lord Gower has thoughts of sending him di- 
rectly to us ; and I confess that I should be glad 
that be did so. When he has been for some 
time with me, I shall make a better judgment 
of his character; and my opinion concerning 
the manner in which his travels ought to be 
directed, will turn principally upon what I 
shall observe of his character. I will judge, in 
consequence of that notice, as well as I can ; 
and my Lord Gower may assure himself, that I 
will employ the best skill I have in this affair, 



[ 23 3 

with zeal and affection. As to Mr. Gravenkop, 
I know him well, and think well of him ; all I 
have to recommend is this, let him be in the 
boy's eye a friend and companion, not a governor. 
Let him be the same in the eyes of the world ; 
a person attached, as they say abroad, to the 
family, and who travels on that principle with 
himj this hint is of more consequence than you 
can imagine. In the mean time I will enquire 
about the several academies that are abroad. 
That in our neighbourhood at Augers is quite 
fallen ; and that of Luneville will now fall, I 
suppose, likewise. 

Pray renew to my Lord Gower the assurances 
of my being his faithful servant ; they are very 
sincere. I need say no more at present about 
his son; but if he sends him hither, I should be 
glad to know the time, that I may order mine 
so as to have an opportunity of attending him; 
for it is possible that I may take a trip to Paris, 
and even to the waters of Bourbon, in the spring. 

Adieu, dear Sir William. All here are de- 
voted to you and yours; but neither here, or 
any where else, is any man so much as your old 
and faithful friend^ 

B. 



[ 24 ] 

LETTER IV. 
Jjord BoLiNGBROKE to Sir Wm. Wyndham. 

February 27, 1737. 
I Received yesterday your letter of the 
28tli of January, dear Sir William; and though 
I have this morning little time, I employ it to 
answer what you write to me ; and this I shall 
do in very few words. As to all expedients of 
borrowing, and living longer on my capital, which 
has been, during many years, and by many ways, 
annually reduced, I cannot resolve to take them. 
To live by expedients, in all the senses of these 
words, has been my aversion always, however I 
may have been obliged to live so; but at my 
age, in my circumstances, and with my present 
temper of mind, to live so would be madness, if 
by any means I can avoid it. I want ease 
and tranquillity more than money ; and, there- 
fore, in my proceeding toward the sale of Dawley, 
I care little what advantages I give another, 
provided I secure soon to myself the advantage 
of settling my affairs in a way to have no further 
trouble about them, and to bring me a revenue, 
not equal to my fund, but equal to my scheme 
of life. 1 suppose the estate and advov/son worth 
about £l9/)00. If Mc-ad, or jmy one else, will 
give me, without more ado, £(iOOO for the house, 
and all the furniture in it, so that I may not lose 



r 25 ] 

the present opportunity ; close the bargain, Sir 
William, and I will ratify it. You ask what 
furniture I except. Besides books and pictures, 
I answer, in this case none; and especially if 
Dr. Mead be the purchaser, to whom, upon his 
own account, and out of regard to his late bro- 
ther's memory, I should be glad that the advan- 
tage of this purchase accrued. The furniture 
already in place, and the house, even reckon- 
ing the latter almost as materials, are worth the 
£6000. If my wife has left any box, or other 
odd article, which she may desire to have over, 
it will be such a trifle as to cause no dispute. 
In order to guard against the objection you 
make, it will be proper to say, as it is most true, 
ihat what you are now empowered to do, is only 
for the present moment, wherein I have parti- 
cular reasons for selling ; and that I shall not 
think in the same manner, this moment over. 

I make no doubt of yoar best services; 
and I should believe that Dr. B. misfht de- 
termine Dr, Mead to catch at such an oppor- 
tunity ; for surely it is a great one in profit, 
conveniency, and every other respect. Let me 
have your answer as soon as possible, for I must 
give mine determinately in a fortnight. I will 
not risk agreeing here, without agreeing there ; 
but, sure of the latter, I can find here, in the 
purses of my friends, all the money I shall want. 



[ 26 ] 

as I have told you in a former letter. Let your 
answer be sent securely to De Rocquet ; he will 
convey it to me. Let this come as soon as you 
can. Make it on good grounds ; and such will 
be your word of honour on my part, and the 
purchasers, for the purchase at such a sum. 
£26,000 1 wish to have: £25,000 1 will take ; the 
difference of a thousand pounds is not great; and 
yet in the plan I have formed, (and pare as close as 
possible,) it is considerable. If these pour-parlers 
produce any other propositions, you will be so good 
as to let me know them, for I must turn myself 
some way or other. Once more, you need not 
apprehend that I shall enter into any engage- 
ments here, unless I am previously sure of selling 
Dawley. My last letter to you by Leveson 
acquaints you, that I can find in the purses of 
my friends here, as much money as I want, with- 
out any other security than I can give here, and 
that is, my word ; but far be it from me to risk 
that word. If I lose the opportunities that are 
open at present, and fall back into absolute un- 
certainty about the settlement of my affairs in 
any tolerable manner, either for my life, or for 
my death, there can be nothing worse for me; 
and, in this case, I know not whether the best 
thing I can do, will not be to take a journey into 
England in the month of May. If any receiv- 
able offers are made, I mav conclude at once ; if 



[ 27 ] 

none, I may take new measures: and if I will 
live on my capital, I may do so at Dawley in 
a very retired manner, as well as at Augevjlle. 
This is a party I should not chuse, but will take, 
if no other present itself; and I shall explain 
my scheme farther to you hereafter. 

I had written thus far, when Bouillard re- 
ceived a letter of a very fresh date fromBrinsden, 
wherein he says that Mrs. Wyndham has the 
small-pox. I am unspeakably touched with the 
news; I pray God preserve her for her own 
sake, and for yours. It would be cruel to trouble 
you, when you have so great a load of concern 
upon you, any further about my affairs. I will 
conclude, therefore, with assurances of the part 
your two friends here take in your affliction, with 
our hearty and warmest wishes that the poor 
young lady may escape. We both embrace you, 
and make our best compliments to my Lady 
Blandford. B. 

LETTER V. 

From Lord Bolingbroke to &V Charles 
Wyndham.* 

DEAR SIR, Augeville, Aug. 8, 1740. 

I Feel as I ought to do, the kindness 
you shew me in sending a servant on purpose 

• Son of Sir Wm. Wyndham, afterwards Lord Egremont. 



[ 28 ] 

with a letter, which gives me as much comfort as 
I am capable of receiving, since the loss we have 
sustained by the death of your father, and my 
friend. You are in the right, and I love you 
the better for the sentiment ; it is reputation to 
be descended from so great and so good a man; 
and surely it is some, to have lived thirty years 
with him in the warmest and most attentive 
friendship. Far from having any need of mak- 
ing any excuses that you did not write the cruel 
news to me, when you sent it to Lady Denbigh, 
I have thanks to return you for sparing me, as 
you spared yourself. The news came to me 
with less surprise, but not with less effect. My 
unhappiness (for such it w^ill be as long as I am 
able to feel pleasure and pain) began, however, 
a little later. It is a plain truth, free from all 
affectation or compliment, that as your father 
was dearer to me than all the rest of the world, 
so must every thing be that remains of him. 
You, Sir, especially, who are as dear to my heart 
•as you would be, if, being the same worthy man 
you are, you were my own son. 

The resolutions you have taken, both as to 
public and private life, are such as become the 
son and successor of Sir William Wyndham. 
To be a friend to your country, is to be what he 
was eminently: it is to be what he would have 
recommended you to be, even with his dying 



[ 29 1 

breath, if the nature of his distemper had per- 
mitted such an effort. He thought his country 
on the brink of ruin; and that monarchical or 
free constitution of government, wherein the 
glory and happiness of the nation consisted, at 
the point of being dissolved and sacrificed to the 
support of a weak and wicked administration; 
but he thought that the greater this distress was, 
the more incumbent and the more pressing the 
duty of struggling to prevent or to alleviate it 
became. One of the last things he had said to 
me the day before he left this place was, that he 
did not expect to live to see Britain restored to 
a flourishmg and secure state, but that he would 
die in labouring to procure that happiness to 
those he should leave behind him. Complain 
not of your talents; it is a great talent to dare 
to be honest in such an age as thi^; nature has 
given you many, your own industry may improve 
them, and acquire more ; but integrity and firm- 
ness of mind must give lustre and vigour to them 
all, I am quite unable to suggest any thing to 
you relative to your conduct in Somersetshire, 
neither can you want any hints on that subject; 
or if you did, my Lord Gower would be able to 
advise you much better, and on better informa- 
tion and observation than it is possible for me 
to have. Consult him, dear Sir Charles, and 
hearken to him on every subject, as to a wise 



[ 30 ] 

and virtuous friend. I give you the counsel I 
would take myself, if I were in your scene of 
action at more than twice your age. 

Whenever I can be of use to you, by inform- 
ing and advising, or by any other way whatsoever, 
this service shall be paid you with all the affec- 
tion of my heart, and all the powers of my mind 
or body. I owe it you. I owe it to the me- 
mory of your dear father. 

The flights I take from this place are rare, 
and never long in time or distance: if, there- 
fore, you are so good as to make me a visit, 
take your own time ; you will find me at home, 
or, as we use to say, within call. Your tender- 
ness and respect for my Lady Blandford cannot 
be too much commended, and I am sure you will 
persist in them. Give the strongest assurances of 
mine, I beseech you, both to my Lady, Mrs. Wynd- 
ham, and to Lady Denbigh, if she be with you, as 
I suppose she will, when this comes to your hands. 
I had talked largely to your father on the 
subject on which I wrote to him in the letter 
that Mr. Brinsden put into your hands; and 
had convinced him, that Mr. Percy lost his time 
now at Winchester. You may be, perhaps, in 
the same mind ; and if you are so, you must send 
him to Oxford as soon as you can conveniently. 
But I will enter no further into the matter, since 
it will be one subject of our conversations when 



C 31 ] 

we have them. I will only desire you to pot the 
young" man in mind of me, as of one who loves 
him, and wishes his happiness. If I am alive 
when he has finished the course of his studies at 
Oxford, you may perhaps let him make me a 
visit, before he goes into another course of study 
abroad, as I think it would be greatly for his 
improvement to do. I shall be glad to see him 
once more before I die, and I scarce induce 
myself to think that 1 shall have that satisfac- 
tion in England. 

Do not imagine that a letter from you can 
appear long to me, and especially when every 
line of it holds a language that affects my heart 
in the most sensible manner. Not to trust it to 
the post, you were right ; for there are men in 
the world, who will draw poison, like spiders, out 
of every thing. I know not whether the allusion 
I make be a fact, but that I allude to, is one most 
certainly. 

Adieu, dear Sir Charles! May all your fa- 
ther's virtues dwell in you; may you succeed to 
his reputation ! and may the reward of his merit, 
(as the attachment of it will undoubtedly) at- 
tend you! 

These are the sentiments of one to whom his 
memory and your person are equally dear. I 
can use no stronger expression, and I think this 
as strong as I can express it. B, 



[ 32 I 

LETTER VI. 
Lord BoLiNGBROKE to Sir Chas.Wyndham. 

BEAR SIR, December 2, 1740. 

1 Answer your letter of the 22d of October, 
which came to my hand but very lately. It is 
true that my health received this summer several 
shocks, and they were not a little ag-gravated by 
the severe blow which the death of your father- 
gave me. Assure yourself that I will deserve 
the place you give me in your affection and 
confidence, by the same friendship that I bore 
your father, (and greater no heart can give ;) and 
by the same zeal for your honour and interest in 
every circumstance of life. Some use I may be 
of to you, by the long experience I have had of 
men and things, and especially at your first set- 
ting out in higher life than you have been in 
hitherto, and before you have acquired that 
experience yourself. To profit by other men's 
experience, is to purchase knowledge of the 
world at the cheapest rate ; and if mine can be 
in that manner useful to you, I shall think the 
price it cost so much the less exorbitant. You 
judged right, most certainly, in conducting your- 
self as you did at Wells ; and the reflections 
you make on the probable consequences of your 



t 33 ] 

conduct, are right, too, in uiy opinion. You 
see, by this instance, how void of sense and 
sentiment the mob of men called party is ; they 
must not, however, be neglected; every one of 
them is a cypher ; but a rnultitude of cyphers, 
with a unit added to them, make a great sum. 
Be assured, dear Sir Charles, that the great 
support of integrity, in a country like ours espe- 
cially, is independency. It is for this reason, 
that I feel more joy than it is possible for me 
to express, in reading that part of your letter^ 
wherein you appear so determined to preserve 
your independency, by that economy which liiay 
easily be preserved by you, without refusing 
yourself any one of the pleasures of life. Refuse 
yourself only the follies of life, those engaging 
follies, those that every man, upon the least 
reflection, acknowledges to be such. I ask no 
more ; and this you not only grant, but prescribe 
to yourself. 

I should have extreme pleasure in seeing you 
here, but I beg you not to think of coming with 
the least inconveniency, nor the least neglect of 
things that ought to be the immediate objects of 
your care. I do not suspect that Walpole can 
hinder you from being chosen at Bridgewater; 
but I have so good an opinion of you, that I 
am persuaded you will be chosen no where, 
rather than be chosen by him any where. Your 



[ 34 ] 

fatter would have thought so ; for your father 
looked upoQ that man as the principal cause of 
all our national misfortunes. 

I hear Percy is gone to Oxford, and I am glad 
of it. Ho not forget to throw him into that course 
of study I mentioned to your father, and which 
he approved; for else, though applied to his 
studies, he may lose his tiipe at Oxford, as well 
as at Winchester. Have still iu view to make 
him acquire a competent knowledge of the 
Roman law, and for that purpose send him into 
Holland, after he has been long enough at Oxford; 
upon which particular, if you talk with Lord 
Marchmont, you will be well advised. I have 
made all the compliments you desired me to 
make, and am charged with the care of returning 
them. Make mine, I beseech you, to my Lady, 
and toMrs.Wyndham. Adijeu^d^ar Sir Charles, 



B 



[ 3^ ] 



ALEXANDER POPE. 



The celebrity of Alexander Pope, precludes the 
necessity of giving any particulars respecting a cha- 
racter, whose life has been the subject of so many able 
specimens of English biography. The late admirable 
edition of his works, by " that sweetest son of modern 
" song," the accomplished W. L. Bowles, has given 
to the public all that they can now expect to know of 
Pope and his works. The taste and discrimination of 
Dr. Joseph Warton had before well appreciated the 
merit of Pope as a poet, and allotted him his proper 
station among British bards : ** Where then,'' says he, 
" according to the question proposed at the beginning 
" of this Essay, shall we with justice be authorized to 
" place our admired poet? Not, assuredly, in the same 
'' rank with Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton ; how- 
" ever justly we may applaud the Eloisa, and Rape of 
** the Lock ; but, considering the correctness, elegance, 
** and utility of his works, the weight of sentiment> 
'* and the knowledge of men they contain^ we may 
" venture to assign him a place next to Milton, and 
^^Just above Dryden. Yet to bring our minds steadily 
" to make this decision, we must forget, for a moment, 
" the divine Music Ode of Dryden; and may then, 
** perhaps, be compelled to confess, that though Dryden 
'•' be the greater genius^ yet Pope is the better artist^ 
Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, p, 404, Of 
» 2 



[ 36 ] 

the prose compositions of Pope, the public estimation 
has been neither so general nor unqualified as of his 
poetry. " His Letters^^ Johnson says, " if considered 
" merely as compositions, seem to be premeditated and 
*' artificial. It is one thing to write, because there is 
** something which the mind wishes to discharge; and 
*' another, to solicit the imagination, because ceremony 
" or Vanity require something to be written. Pope 
^' confesses his early letters to be vitiated with affec^ 
^^ tation and ambition-^ to know whether he disentangled 
** himself from the perversion of epistolary integrity, 
*' his book and his life must be set in comparison." 
WorkSj vol. it. p. 157. Whatever praises, however, 
may be considered as due to Pope's epistolary compo- 
sitions, the following letters will have much value in the. 
eye of the public, as completing a correspondence, a 
part of which only has hitherto been published. Many 
of our poet's letters to Judge Fortescue appear in the 
later editionb of his works ; but those now printed have 
escaped all his editors. They were reserved among the; 
papers of the venerable, great, and good Richard Rey- 
nolds, esq; of Bristol; a name of such well-known and 
exalted worth, and universal estimation, as render any 
further description unnecessary, and all eulogy super- 
fluous. The Editor has to return her grateful acknow- 
ledgments to one of the most perfect of human beings^ 
his near relative, for their communication. 



C 37 ] 



LETTER VIL 



To Wm. Fortes cue, Esq; at FaUapit, near 
Kingshridge, Devonshire. 



I 



DEAR SIR, Sept. 10, 1724. 

Heartily thank you for yours; and the rather, 
because you are so kind as to employ rae, 
though but in little matters ; I take it as an 
earnest you would do so in greater. 

As to the house of preparation for the small- 
pox, why should it not be my own ? It is en- 
tirely at your service, and I fancy two beds, or 
three upon necessity, (besides, your servants 
may be disposed of in the next house to me,) 
will amply furnish your family. 

It is true, the small-pox has been in Twitnam, 
but is pretty well gone off. I can't find any 
village more free from it so near London, ex- 
cept that of Petersham, where I hear it has not 
been ; but I'll further inform myself, upon your 
next notice. 

As to the receipt of Sir Stephen Fox's eye- 
water, which I have found benefit from, it is 
very simple, and only this : Take a pint of cam- 
phorated spirit of wine, and infuse thereinto two 
scruples of elder flowers. Let them remain in it, 
and wash your temples, and the nape of your 



[ as ] 

neck, but do not put it into your eyes, for it 
will smart abominably. 

When you have taken breath for a week or 
two, and had the full possession of that blessed 
indolence which you so justly value, after your 
long" labours and peregrinations, I hope to see 
you here again ; first exercising the paternal care, 
and exemplary in the tender offices of a pater 
familias, and then conspicuous in the active 
scenes of business, eloquent at the bar, and wise 
in the chamber of council, the future honoiir of 
your native Devon ; and to fill as great a part 
in the history of that county for your sagacity 
and gravity in the laws, as Esquire Bickford is 
likely to do for his many experiments in natural 
philosophy. 

I am forced to dispatch this by the post, which 
is going, or else I could not have forborne to 
expatiate upon what I last mentioned. I must 
now only give Mr. Bickford my services, and 
join 'em to those I shall ever offer to your own 
family. 

Believe me, dear Sir, 
Your faithfullest, affectionate servant, 

A.POPE. 

Gay was well five days ago, at Chiswick. 



I 39 3 

LETTER VIII, 

To Wm. Fortescue, esq; at Fallapit, near 
Totnes, Devon* 

[FROM GAY AND POPE.] 

DEAR SIR, Sept, 23, 1725. 

I Am again returned to Twickenham? 
upon the news of the person's death you wrote 
to me about. I cannot say I have any great 
prospect of success ; but the affair remains yet 
undetermined, and I cannot tell who will be his 
successor. I know I have sincerely your good 
wishes upon all occasions. One would think 
that my friends use me to disappointments, to 
try how many I could bear ; if ihey do so, they 
are mistaken ; for as I don't expect much, I cart 
never be much disappointed. I am in hopes of 
seeing you in town the beginning of October, by 
what you writ to Mr. Pope ; and sure your father 
will think it reasonable that Miss Fortescue 
should not forget her French and dancing. Dr. 
Arbuthnot has been at the point of death by a 
severe fit of illness, an imposthumation in the 
bowels; it hath broke, and he is now pretty well 
recovered. I have not seen him since my return 
from Wiltshire, but intend to go to town the 
latter end of the week. 



[ 40 ] 

I have made your compliments to Mrs. How*- 

ard this morning : she indeed put me in mind 
of it, by enquiring after you. Pray make my 
compliments to your sisters and Mrs. Fortescue; 
Mr. Pope desires the same. 

Your*s, most affectionately, 

J, G. 

^* Blessed is the man who° expects nothing", 
^* for he shall never be disappointed," was the 
ninth beatitude which a man of wit (who, like a 
man of wit, was a long time in gaol) added to 
the eighth ; I have long ago preached this to 
our friend ; I have preached it, but the world 
and his other friends held it forth, and exempli- 
fied it. They say, Mr.Walpole has friendship, 
and keeps his word ; I wish he were our friend's 
friend, or had ever promised him any thing. 

You seem inquisitive of what passed when 
Lord Peterborow spirited him hither, without any 
suspicion of mine. Nothing extraordinary, for 
the most extraordinary men are nothing before 
their masters; and nothing, but that Mr.Walpole 
swore by G — D, Mrs. Howard should have the 
grounds she wanted from V — n. Nothing would 
be more extraordinary, except a statesman made 
good his promise or oath, (as very probably he will.) 
J/Ihave any other very extraordinary thing to tell 



[ 41 ] 

yon, it is this, that I have never since returned 
Sir R. W.'s visit. The truth is, I have nothing 
to ask of him ; and I believe he knows that 
nobody follows him for nothing. Besides, I have 
been very sick, and sickness (let me tell you) 
makes one above a minister, who cannot cure a 
fit of a fever or ag-ue. Let me also tell you, 
that no man who is lame, and cannot stir, will 
wait upon the greatest man upon earth ; and 
lame I was, and still am, by an accident which 
it will be time enough to tell you when we meet, 
fori hope it will be suddenly. Adieu, dear Sir, 
and believe me a true well-wisher to all your's, 
and ever your faithful, affectionate servant, 

A. POPE, 

Twitenham, Sept. 23, 1725. 

LETTER IX. 

To Wm. Fortescue, esq; at his house in Bell- 
Yard, near Lincoln s Inn, London, 

DEAR SIR, Twitnam, May 10. 

I Thank you for your constant memory 
of me, which upon every occasion you shew ; when 
(God knows) my daily infirmities make me 
hardly capable of shewing, though very much 
so of feeling, the concerns of a friend. I am glad 
your family are well arrived, and your taking 



[ 42 3 

care first to tell me so, before I enquired, is a 
proof you know how glad I am of yours, and 
their welfare. I intended to tell you first how 
kind Sir R. Walpole has been to me ; for you 
must know, he did the thing with more despatch 
than I could use in acknowledging or telling the 
the news of it. Pray thank him for obliging 
you (that is, me) so readily, and do it in strong 
terms, for I was aukward in it, when I just 
mentioned it to him. He may think me a worse 
man than I am, though he thinks me a better 
poet perhaps ; and he may not know I am much 
more his servant, than those who would flatter 
him in their verses. I have more esteem for 
him, and will stay till he is out of power, (accord- 
ing to my custom,) before I say what 1 think of 
him. It puts me in mind of what was said to 
him once before by a poet : " In power, your 
** servant; out of power, your friend;" which a 
critic (who knew that poet's mind) said, should 
be altered thus : " In power, your friend ; 
** but out of power, your servant; such most 
"poets are!" But if Sir R. ever finds me the 
first low character, let him expect me to become 
the second. In the mean time I hope he will 
believe me his, in the same sincere disinterested 

manner that I am, 

Dear Sir, your's, 

A. POPK 



[ 43 ] 

Next Sunday I expect some company here, 
but that need not hinder you from a night's 
lodging- in the country, if you like it. 

LETTER X. 
To Mr, FoRTESCUE. 

BEAR SIR, Twickenham f Friday. 

I Am in the condition of an old fellow 
of threescore, with a complication of diseases 
upon me, a constant head-ache, ruined tone of 
the stomach, &:c. Some of these succeed, the 
moment I get quit of others ; and upon the whole, 
indeed, I am in a very uncomfortable way. I 
could have wished to see you, but cannot. I 
wish you all health, wherever you go. Pray, if 
you can, do not forget to try to procure the 
annuity for life for £1000, which I recommended 
to you in behalf of a Lady of our acquaintance. 
Make my sincere services to all yours as ac- 
ceptable as they are sincere. 

I am, dear Sir, your's affectionately, 

A. POPE. 

If you have an opportunity, pray give my 
services to Sir R. W. whom I will wait upon 
the first Sunday I am able. 



[ 44 I 

LETTER XI. 
To William Foiitescue, Esq. 

BEAR sm, Twifenham, Feb. 1 7, 1 726. 

I Was sorry I missed of you the other 
day when you called ; I was gone to Mrs. How- 
ard's, as 1 told you. I send you part of what 
wholly belongs to you, and, as the world's justice 
goes, that is a fair composition ; I mean some 
of the Devonshire pease. If the ring be done, 
pray give it the bearer. I intend to wear it for 
life, as a melancholy memorandum of a most 
honest, worthy man. I told you I dined t'other 
day at Sir E-obert Walpole's. A thing has 
happened since which gives me uneasiness, from 
the indiscretion of one who dined there at the 
same time ; one of the most innocent words that 
ever I dropped in my life, has been reported 
out of that conversation, which might reasonably 
seem odd, if ever it comes to Sir R.'s ears, I 
will tell it you the next time we meet; as I would 
him, if I had seen him since; and 'twas not 
(otherwise) of weight enough to trouble him 
about. We live in unlucky times, when half 
one's friends are enemies to the other, and eon- 
isequently care not that any equal moderate man 



[ 45 ] 

should have more friends than they themselves 
have. Believe me, dear Sir, 

Most affectionately yoiir's, 

A. POPE. 



LETTER XII. 

To William Fortescue, Esq; at Fallapii 
in Devonshire, 

DEAR SIR, Septemhei* 13/ 

I Take your letter the more kindly, as 
I had not written to you myself; at least it must 
have been so, for all you could know; for though 
indeed I did write once, yet I know it never 
reached you. I am sorry for poor White, who 
died just then. I could wish, if you are not 
iixed on a successor, you had a relation of mine 
in your eye ; but this, I fear, is a hundred to one 
against my hopes. I am truly glad you have 
safely performed your revolution, and are now 
turning round your own axle in Devonshire; from 
whence may we soon behold you roll towards 
our w^orld again ! I can give you no account of 
Gay, since he was raffled for, and won back by 
his Dutchess, but that he has been in her vortex 
ever since, immoveable to appearance, yet I be- 



[ 46 3 

lieve with his head turning" round upon some 
work or other. But I think I should not in friend- 
ship conceal from you a fear, or a kind-hearted 
jealousy, he seems to have entertained, from your 
never having called upon him in town, or cor- 
responded with him since. This he commu- 
nicated to me in a late letter, not without the 
appearance of extreme concern on his part, and 
all the tenderness imaginable on yours. This 
whole summer I have passed at home ; my mo- 
ther eternally relapsing', yet not quite down; 
her memory so greatly decayed, that I am forced 
to attend to every thing, even the least cares of 
the family, which, you'll guess, to me is an inex- 
pressible trouble, added to the melancholy of 
observing' her condition. 

1 have seen Sir R. W. but once since you left* 
I made him then my confidant in a complaint 
against a lady, of his, and one of my, acquaintance, 
who is libelling me, as she certainly one day will 
him, if she has not already. You'll easily guess 
I am speaking of Lady Mary. I should be sorry 
if she had any credit or influence with him, for 
she would infallibly use it to bely me ; though 
my only fault towards her was, leaving off her 
conversation when I found it dangferous. I 
think you vastly loo ceremonious to Mrs. Pattj, 
but I shewed her what you wrote. I beg your 
family's acceptance of my heartiest services, and 



[ 47 ] 

their belief that no man wishes them and you 
more warmly all prosperity, than, dear Sir, 

Your ever affectionate friend and servant, 

A. POPE. 

I've only seen Mrs. Howard twice since I 
saw you, but hear she is very well, since she took 
to water drinking. If you have any correspon- 
dence at Lincoln or Peterborough, a friend of 
mine desires to procure a copy of Mr. — 's 
last will. 



LETTER XIII. 

ToWm. Portescue, Esq; to he left at his house 
in Bell Yard, Lincoln's Inn, London. 

DEAR SIR, March 18, 1732. 

I Am sorry you partook of the trouble 
of the Excise Bill; and as sorry I did not know 
of your coming, though but for two days, for I 
would have come up just to see you. It had 
been very kind, if you could have layn here in 
your way; but this is past, and may all the 
future be prosperous with you as I wish it ! As 
to that poem, which I do not, and must not, own, 
I beg your absolute and inviolable silence. You 



[ 48 1 

will see more of it in another week, and that too 
I shall keep private. It is so far from a morti- 
fication to do any cjood thing, (if this be so, and 
indeed I mean it so,) and enjoy only one*s own 
consciousness of it, that I think it the hiofhest 
gratification. On the contrary, the worst things 
I do, are such as I would constantly own, and 
stand the censure of. It is an honest proceeding, 
and worthy a guiltless man. You may be certain 
I shall never reply to such a libel as Lady Mary's. 
'Tis a pleasure and a comfort at once to find, 
that with so much mind as so much malice must 
have, to accuse or blacken my character, it can 
fix upon no one ill or immoral thing in my life, 
and must content itself to say, my poetry is dull, 
and my person ugly. I wish you would take 
an opportunity to represent to the person who 
spoke to you about that lady, that her conduct 
no wa}s deserves encouragement from him, or 
any other great persons ; and that the good name 
of a private subject ought to be as sacred, even 
to the highest, as his behaviour towards thorn isr 
irreproachable, legal, and respectful. What' 
you writ of his intimation on that head, shall 
never pass my lips. 

Mr. Bl — is your faithful servant, and muck 
obliged to your care. My mother, I thank Goi>, 
is free and easy. I never had better health than 
of late, and hope I shall have long life, because 



L 49 ] 

I am much threatened. Adieu ! and know me 
ever for, dear Sir, 

Your most sincerely aiFectionate servant, 

A. POPE, 



LETTER XIV. 

ToWm. Fortescue, Esq; in Bell-Yard, near 
Lincoln s Inn, London, 

DEAR SIR, Sunday, Feb, 1732-3. 

I Had written to you before, as well 
as sent ; had I not hoped this day, or last night, 
to have seen you here. 1 am sorry for your 
complaints of ill health, and particularly of your 
eyes; pray be very careful not to increase your 
cold. I will infallibly, if I can't see you sooner, 
be with you in the middle of the week. I am 
at all times desirous to meet you, and have this 
winter been often dissatisfied to do it so seldom. 
I wish you a judge, that you may sleep and be 
quiet ; ut in otia tuta recedas, but otium cum dig^ 
nitate: have you seen my imitation of Horace? 
1 fancy it \y'\\\ make you smile; but though, when 
first I began it, I thought of yon ; before I came 
to end it, I considered it might be too ludicrous. 



t 50 ] 

to a man of your situation and grave acquaint- 
ance, to make you Trebatius, who was yet one of 
the most considerable lawyers of his time, and a 
particular friend of a poet. In both which cir- 
cumstances I rejoice that you resemble him, but 
am chiefly pleased that you do it in the latter. 
Dear Sir, adieu ! and love me as I do you. 

Your faithful and affectionate servant, 

A. POPE. 



LETTER XV. 
To William Fortescue, Esq. 

DEAR SIR, June 7,* 1733. 

IT is indeed a g-rief to me, which I 
cannot express, and which I should hate my 
own heart, if 1 did not feel, and yet wish no 
friend I have ever should feel. All our passions 
are inconsistencies, and our very x'eason is no 
better. But we are what we were made to be. 
Adieu! it will be a comfort to me to see you 
on Saturday night. 

Believe me, dear Sir, your*s, 

A.POPE. 

* The day on which Mr. Pope's mother died. 



C 51 ] 

LETTER XVI. 
To William Fortescue, Esq. 

DEAR SIR, August 2, 1735. 

I Had sooner written to you, but that 
I wished to send you some account of my own 
and of your affairs in my letter. This day 
determines both ; for we cannot find out who is 
the pirater of my works, therefore cannot move 
for an injunction, (though they are sold over all 
the toW'U;) that injury I must sit down with, 
though the impression cost me above £200, as 
the case yet stands, there being" above half the 
impression unsold. Curl is certainly in it, but 
we can get no proof. He has done me another 
injury, in propagating lies in Fog's Journal of 
Saturday last, which I desire you to see, and 
consider if not matter for an information. One 
Mr. Gandy, an attorney, writes me word, Mr. 
Cruwys is too busy- to attend my little affairs, 
and that you approve of his being employed for 
him. Now, as to your business, I write this from 
your house ; the windows will be done, and a 
stone chimney-piece up, by the end of next 
week. I will see all effected, and order the 
painting after. I have paid the fisherman. 

E 2 



[ 52 ] 

I have exercised hospitality plentifully these 
tvventy days, having- entertained many of mine^ 
and some of Lady S/s, friends. There is a 
greater court now at Marble hill than at Ken- 
sington, and God knows when it will end. 
Mrs. Blount is your hearty humble servant, and 
Lady S. returns you all compliments. Make 
mine to your whole family, when you write. I 
dine to-day with some of your friends, and shall 
give your services in the evening to Lord Hay. 
The town has nothing worth your hearing or 
care ; it is a wretched place to me, for there is 
not a friend in it. The news is supposed to be 
very authentic, that the Persians have killed 
sixty thousand Turks. I am sorry that the sixty 
thousand Turks are killed, and should be just as 
sorry if the sixty thousand Persians had been 
killed ; almost as sorry as if they had been so 
many Christians, 

Dear Sir, adieu ! As soon as you get home, 
pray contrive (if you can) to send what letters 
you have been so partial to me as to keep, espe- 
cially of an early date, before the year 1720. I 
may derive great service from seeing them in the 
chronological order; and I find my collection, 
such as it is, must be hastenerl, or will not be so 
effectual. May all health and happiness follow 
you in your circuit, and, at the end of it, with 
repose to join them ', and then, I think, you'll 



[ 53 ] 

have all that is worth living for in this world ; 
for as for fame, it is neither worth living for, or 
dying for. I am truly, dear Sir, 

Your faithful friend, and affectionate servant, 

A. POPE. 

From the Vineyards, Aug, 2. 

Pray, when you write to Mr. Curwys, enquire 
if he has not forgot Mrs. Blount's arrear from 
her brother of £25, due last Lady-Day. 



LETTER XVn. 
To William Foktescue, Esq, 

DEAR SIR, March 26, t736. 

YOUR very kind letter was not more 
kind than enteriaiuing, in the agreeable descrip- 
tion of Monmouth and its situation. And what 
you tell me of your own temper of mind, in the 
present discharge of your office, I feel very livelily 
with and for you. It is a dreadful duty, yet a 
noble one; and the hero you thought so much of 
at Monmouth, had, or ought to have had, his 
glory overcast and saddened, with the same 
reflection : how many of his own species he 
sentenced to death, in every battle he gave. I 
am not sa clear in his character, as in that of 



t 54 3 

Edward the Third. There seems a little too 
much of a turn to vanity, and knight (king er- 
rantry, I would say,) in his motives of quarrel 
with the Dauphine of France. And it appears 
by some of the Monkish historians, that he was 
much a bigot, and persecuted hotly for religion. 
After all, your office of a judge is more con- 
scientious, and tends much more directly to public 
w^elfare. You may certainly, with a better title 
than any conqueror, sleep heartily, provided it 
be not upon the bench. You guessed rightly, (I 
should now say rather, you judged rightly,) 
when you supposed this weather was too fine to 
be sacrificed in London, where the sun shines on 
little else than vanity • but I have paid for taking 
my pleasure in it too exorbitantly. The sun at 
this season, and in this climate, is not to be too 
much depended on. Miseri quihus intenfata nites! 
may be applied to the favours and smiles of the 
English planet, as properly as to those of an 
Italian lady. 

The matter of my complaint is, that it has 
given rae a rheumatism in one arm to a violent 
degree, which lies useless and painful on one side 
of this paper, while the other is endeavouring to 
converse with you at this distance. Gob knows, 
if your family be across the water just now, I 
shall not be able once to see them there. But 
it is not five days ago, that they were in London, 



[ 55 ] 

at that filthy old place Bell-jard, which you 
know I want them and you to quit. I was to see 
them one of the only two days I have been in 
town this fortnight. Your too partial mention 
of the book of Letters, with all its faults and 
follies, which Curl printed and spared not, (nor 
yet will spare, for he has published a fourth sham 
volume yesterday,) makes one think it may not 
be amiss to send you, what 1 know you will be 
much more pleased with than I can be, a pro- 
posal for a correct edition of them; which at last 
I find must be offered^ since people have misun*" 
derstood an advertisement I printed some time 
ago, merely to put some stop to that rascal's 
books, as a promise that I would publish such a 
book. It is therefore offered in this manner ; 
but I shall be just as well satisfied, (if the public 
"will,) without perfoi'ming the offer. I have no- 
thing to add, but that Mrs. Blount, whose health 
you shew a kind regard to, is better, and Lady S. 
well. May health attend you and quiet ; and a 
good conscience will give you every other joy of 
life, how many rogues soever you sentence to 
death. 'T is a hard task! but a harder to man- 
kind, were they unpunished, and left in society. I 
pity you, and wish it may happen as seldom as 

possible. 

Your's, sincerely, 

A. POPE. 



[ 56 ] 

LETTER XVIII. 
To the Hon. William Fortescue. 

DEAR SIR, Jw/3/3], 1738. 

IT was my intention sooner to have told 
you, of what, I know, is the news a friend chiefly 
desires, my own state of health. But I waited 
these three weeks almost, to give you a better 
account than I can yet do ; for 1 have suffered 
a good deal from many little ailments, that don't 
altogether amount to a great disease, and yet 
render life itself a sort of one. 

I have never been in London but one day since 
I parted from you, when I saw Mr. Spooner 
and the rest of yours ; and this day I took it into 
my head they might be at the Vineyard. I went 
thither, but Mrs. Shepherd told me, in a voice 
truly lugubrious, that nobody had seen her walls 
since you were last there. I comforted her over a 
dish of tea, and recommended her to read Milto 
on all such occasions of worldly disappointments. 

I went home, and drank Sir Robert's health 
with T. Gordon ', for that day I was left alone, 
my Lord Bolingbroke being sent for to London, 
who has stayed with me otherwise constantly 
^ince his arrival in England, and proposes (to 



[ 57 ] 

my great satisfaction) to do so, while he remains 
on this side the water. It is great pleasure to 
me that 1 never saw him better, and that quiet 
and hunting', together, have repaired his health 
so well. Your friend Sir Robert has but one of 
these helps; but I remember when I saw him 
last, which was the last time he sent to desire 
me, he told me he owed his strength to it. You 
see I have made him a second compliment in 
print in my second Dialogue, and he ought to 
take it for no small one, since in it I couple him 
with Lord Bol — . As he shews a right sense 
of this, I may make him a third, in my third 
Dialogue. 

I should be glad to hear of any place, or thing, 
that pleases you in your progress. Lord Bur- 
lington was very active in issuing orders to his 
gardener, to attend you with pine-apples: he 
goes into Yorkshire next week. 

Pray remember me to Mr. Murray. You 
need not tell him I admire and esteem him, but 
pray assure him that T love him. 

I am, sincerely, dear Sir, your's, 

A. POPE. 



I 



F 58 ] 



LETTER XIX. 

To the Hon. Mr, Justice Wm. Fortescue, i>e 
Sell-Yard, near Lincoln s Inn, London, 

' DEAR SIB, Aug. 17, 1739. 

I Was truly concerned, at my return 
from my rambles, (which was a whole week 
longer than I intended, or could prevent,) to 
hear from Mrs. Blount, how ill you had been ; 
worse thvan really you had told me in your kind 
letter. I called at your house a day or two, but 
mist the ladies ; but the servants told me they 
had heard twice from you, and that you was 
much better. 1 hope it proved so ; and that as 
your journey advanced, your strength did the 
same. I wished to hear more of you ; and now 
desire it, that I may no longer want the know- 
ledge how you find yourself. I dined yesterday 
w^ith Jervas upon a venison pasty, where we 
drank your health warmly, but as temperately, as 
to the liquor, as you could yourself: for neither 
he nor I are well enough to drink wine; he for 
his asthmatic, and I for another complaint, that 
persecutes me much of late. 

Mrs, Blount is not yet at Bichmond, which 
she is sorry for, as well as I \ but I think she goes 



[ 59 ] 

to-morrow : and she told me she would give you 
some account of herself, the moment she was 
under your roof. She expected I could have 
informed her of your state of health, and almost 
quarrelled with me that I had not writ sooner. 
Indeed I forget no old friend a day together; 
and I bear you, in particular, all the goodwill 
and good wishes I can harbour for any one; 
though as to writing, I grow more and more 
remiss. The whole purpose of it is only to tell, 
now and then, one is alive; and to encourage one*s 
friends to tell us the same, in the conscioasness 
of loving and being loved by each other. All 
news, if important, spreads of itself; and, if un- 
important, wastes time and paper; few things 
can be related as certain truths, and to hunt for 
pretty things belongs to fops and Frenchmen. 
Party stories are the business of such as serve 
their own interests by them, or their own pas- 
sions. Neither of all these is my case, so that 
I confine myself to meer howd'yes, and repeated 
assurances that I am concerned to know what I 
ask of my friends. Let me, then, sometimes be 
certified of your ways and welfare ; mine are 
pretty uniform, neither much mended nor worse. 
But such as I ever was, I am ; and I ever was, and 
shall be, dear Sir, 

Faithfully your's, 

A. POPE. 



[ 60 ] 
GEORGE CHEYNE, M.D 



The writer of the following letters, Dr. George 
Cheyne, was a physician of considerable eminence, 
and singular character ; descended from a good family 
in Scotland, where he was born in 1 67 1 . Being at first 
intended by his parents for the church, he received a 
regular and liberal education ; and passed his youth in 
close study, and in ahnost continual application to the 
abstracted sciences ; in which pursuits his chief pleasure 
consisted. From some cause, which does not appear, 
the plan of entering into the Church was relinquished; 
and young Cheyne was placed at Edinburgh, where he 
studied physic under the celebrated Dr. Pitcairne, whom 
he stiles his great master, and generous friend; and 
having taken the degree of Do6lor of Physic, he re- 
paired to London, when he was about thirty years of 
age, to practise as a physician. Possessed of a lively 
imagination, a cheerful temper, and much acquired 
knowledge, he was greatly caressed, and almost insen- 
sibly led from those habits of temperance and absti- 
nence, which he had imposed upon himself in early 
life, from the opinion he had formed of his own delicacy 
of constitution. In a few years, however, he found that 
this mode of free living was very injurious to bis health; 
he grew excessively fat, short-breathed, listless, and 
lethargic. In the course of a short time, he was sudr 
denly seized with a vertiginous paroxysm, so alarming 
in its nature, as to approach nearly to a fit of apoplexy. 
His spirits became affected : he left off suppers ; con- 
fined himself at dinner to a very small quantity of ani- 



[ 61 ] 

mal food ; and drank very sparingly of any fermented 
liquors. This change in his health and habits rendered 
him a less acceptable companion to the jovial bon vivans 
with whom he had lately associated ; and he soon after 
retired into the country, where he exchanged light and 
dissipated pursuits, for the more solid satisfaction of 
studying some of our most able and valuable theolo- 
gical writers. He had never, even in his freer moments, 
deserted the great principles of natural religion ; but 
in his present retirement, he made divine revelation the 
more immediate object of his attention. 

Although Dr. Cheyne's health improved greatly, 
from the change of situation and low living, his com- 
plaints were not entirely eradicated; and he was per- 
suaded by his medical and other friends to try the effect 
of Bath ; whither he removed, and for some time felt 
himself considerably relieved by drinking the Water, 
and adopting a milk diet. He now practised as a 
physician in the summer at Bath, and during the winter 
in London, applying himself more particularly to chro- 
nical, and especially to low, nervous cases : at this period 
of his life, he generally rode on horseback ten or fifteen 
miles every day. Dr. Cheyne published a great number 
of treatises, essays, trails, Sec. &c, ; and a spirit of piety 
and benevolence, and an ardent zeal for the interests of 
virtue, are predominant throughout his writings. An 
amiable candour and ingenuousness, also, are discernible; 
and which led him to retract whatever appeared to him 
to be censurable in what he had formerly advanced. He 
had great reputation, in his own time, both as a phy- 
sician and a writer. Some of the metaphysical notions 
which are to be found in his works, may, perhaps, be 
thought fanciful, and ill grounded; but there is an agree- 
able vivacity in his productions, together with much 
openness and frankness, and in general great perspicuity* 



< 



[ 62 ] 

One of Dr. Cheyne's resolutions, to which he encTea- 
voured constantly to adhere, ought never to be forgotten^ 
'< — to neglect nothing to secure his eternal peace, any 
" more than if he had been certified he should die within 
"the day ; nor to mind any thing that his secular obli- 
** gations and duties demanded of him, less than if he 
*^ had been insured to live fifty years." That he had 
some enemies, and knew how to treat them, will appear 
in the following lines : 

Dr. Wynter to Dr. Cheyne, on his Books in 
favour of Vegetable Diet. 

Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot, 

Thou didst thy system learn; 
From Hippocrate thou hast it not. 

Nor Celsus, nor Pitcairne, 

Suppose we own that milk is good. 

And say the same of grass ; 
The one for bahes is only food. 

The other for an ass, 

Dodor ! one new prescription try, 

(A friend's advice forgive ;) 
Eat grass, reduce thyself, and die -^ 

Thy patients, then, may live. 

Dr. Cheyne to Dr. Wynter, in answer to the 
Joregoing. 

My system, Do6lor, is my own. 

No tutor I pretend : 
My blunders hurt myself alone. 

But yours your dearest friend. 

Were you to milk and straw confin'd. 

Thrice happy might you be 3 
Perhaps you might regain your mind, 
. And from your wit get free» 



[ 63 ] 

■ I cannot your prescription try^ 
But heartily "forgive ;" 
'Tis nat'ral you should bid me die. 
That you yourself may live ! 

The following account of his decease, and sketch of 
Dr. Cheyne's character, appeared in one of the papers 
of the day: " Wednesday April 13, 1743, died at Bath, 
'* in the 71st year of his age, that learned physician, 
" sound Christian, deep scholar, and warm friend, 
*' Dr. George Cheyne ; so well known by his mathe- 
" maticaJ, as well as physical works, that nothing need 
'* be said as to his public character; and as to his pri- 
*' vate only this, that those who best knew him, most 
*' loved him, which must be the felicity of every man 
" who values himself more upon the goodness of his 
*' heart, than the clearness of his head ; and yet Dr. 
" Cheyne's works shew how much he excelled in both,'^ 

Dr. Cheyne had a brother, who was redor of Weston, 
near Bath, and both are buried in that church. 



LETTER XX. 
From Dr. Cheyne to S. Richardson. 

DEAR SIR, Bathy Dec. 18, 1740. 

W Had answered your last very obliging' letter 
^ sooner, but was willing to finish that paper 
I promised, to enlarge your new edition of Travels 
through England. I think the natural histories of 
some of the counties published, such as Camden's, 



[ 64 ] 

Hayleri's Cosmography, Rapin, and the lives 
of the new edition of Bayle, might furnish out 
materials, under any industrious hand, to make 
it a very saleable and entertaining book to the 
middling class of gentry, who want it most, and 
buy most. But I wonder you make your modern 
bookwS in so small a type, and on so bad a paper; it 
must certainly disgust many, particularly the ten- 
der-eyed and old, who chiefly read books ; and it 
gives an ill impression of a book, before its cha- 
racter is established. It is the only thing, indeed, I 
have to complain of in Pamela, which entertained 
me and all mine (for which I thank you) extreme* 
ely. It will certainly sell vastly well, and I hope 
do a great deal of good. All my acquaintace, to 
whom I have recommended it, are much pleased 
and entertained with it. It is really finely 
wrought up, and delicately imagined in many 
incidents; and I never thought you master of so 
much wit and gallantry as are couched in it. 
It will do no dishonour either to your head or 
your heart. 

Mr. Bertram, when he went hence, told me, 
he had been commissioned by Mr. Rivington- to 
ask me when I would make up his loss in the 
last book I printed, which he said I promised 
him. I will certainly make good all my pro- 
mises to a tittle; but when I did promise, I 
had then no fear that he would be a loser, as he 



[ 65 1 

ftow says he will. The favour I now beg of 
you is, to settle the matter with him ; and let all 
he has in hand, unbound, with the remainder of 
the sheets^ be packed up, and a fair account 
be stated ; and I promise him to pay his de^ 
mands on sight, and for ever bid adieu to book- 
writing", and book-selling". If you'll be so g-ood 
to adjust this matter, and let the sheets lie by you, 
packed up, until I can dispose of them, which 
shall be soon, it will be extremely obliging* It 
is the first of this kind, and shall be the last, 
though I have several things finished by me ; 
but I am much of Sir Walter Raleigh's opinion ; 
and booksellers shall not have my lucubrations 
to fringe the rails of Bedlam with; though I still 
swear, that is the best book I ever wrote, how- 
ever unpopular. 

I am sincerely yours, 

GEORGE CHEYNE. 

Let me hear when this is settled. 



LETTER XXL 

Dr. Cheyne to S. RTCiiA:RDSON, Esq, 
DEAR SIR, Bath^ August 14, 1741. 

I Have seen your letter to Mr. Leake, 
and read your two first sheets ; and have in a 



[ 66 ] 

few places, scratched with my pencil, where I 
think you may reconsider ; but I am not a proper 
judge of expression, and it will only serve to 
make you reflect on properly. I think you are 
right to begin with the least interesting parts, 
and rise gradually on the reader. I know not 
the plan you have laid down to yourself, and 
consequently cannot judge of the work, nor its 
success; but, without a plan, or drawing the 
outlines, no regular or finished picture can be 
wrought. I will honestly and plainly sketch 
out a few things in general, of which you will 
be the best judge whether they will suit your de- 
sign. If I were capable of executing such a 
work, I would first contrive for it as many inte- 
resting incidents, either distresses naturally over- 
come, or good fortune unexpectedly happening, 
as I possibly could, and make them the subject, 
or at least the means, of the instruction, I intended 
to communicate. For example : a broken leg, a 
disjointed limb, a dangerous fever, happening 
to a husband ; and then the tender care, vigi- 
lance, and active nursing, of a loving wife, when 
she would have anopportunity of insinuating all 
the noble, religious, and beautiful sentiments to 
a rakish or unconverted infidel; for such a season 
is the mollia tcmpora fandi. Your own fruitful 
imagination can work up more episodes of this^ 
nature, than I can here describe. 



[ 67 ] 

Secondly! I would pick out all the great 
events of conjunct lives, and insinuate proper 
behaviour under them. The death of a favour-' 
ite child; a sudden conflagration, of one's own, or 
one's neighbour's, favourite seat ; an epidemical 
distemper; a severe winter; a famine, &c.; quar- 
rels amongst neighbours and friends, and the 
like great and unexpected events, probably de- 
veloped; always beget attention in the reader, 
and naturally convey instruction. 

Thirdly ; I would make my heroine convert 
my hero : for religion and seriousness are more 
the character of the woman than the man : the 
first is more gentle, docile, and meek, in the 
main ; and the latter more sturdy, rough, and 
espriis forts ; and therefore the heroine should be 
acquainted with the best, purest, and strongest 
writers in morality and Christianity, and recom- 
mend them to her husband; especially those 
who write with fine taste and sentiment. 

Fourthly ; In particular, I think the heroine 
may be thrown into all the situations of the 
mistress of a great and opulent family; of a pru- 
dent wife; a tender and affectionate mother; a 
civil neighbour; a kind friend; a charitable 
steward to the poor ; and her duty and behaviour 
described and pointed out in all those relations, 
which might contain infinite lessons for the 
sex. 

r3 



[ 68 ] 

Fifthly; You ought to avoid fondling ancl 
gallantry ; tender expressions, not becoming 
the character of wisdom, and piety, and conjugal 
chastity, especially in the sex. St. Paul ispeaks 
like a polite man, as well as a deep christian. 
You mind, that the Tatler lashed the shoemaker 
in Pall-Mall, for setting out such a variety of 
laced shoes in his windows. You must raise 
your heroine into dignity and high life by just 
degrees ; and sink your hero from a rake, a bully, 
and a fine pagan, into a senator first, then a 
philosopher, and, lastly, into a true spiritual 
christian* 

1 do not mean by all this tedious detail, that 
you can possibly have room or patience to work 
np all these characters, for that would make a 
system of all science; but perhaps you may 
pick out from hence some mementos ; and you 
may, perhaps, have an eye to them in your going 
on ; but avoid drawling as much as jfou can, and 
let not a long penny ful tempt you to any low 
or vulgar thing. 

Readers love rapidity in narration; and quick; 
returns keep them from dozing* Hitherto yo\x 
have succeeded with all sober, serious readers, 
though but in low life. Now you are to try, and 
rise up into dignity and higher life. I know no 
difference in the sexes, but in their configura- 
tion. They are both Qf the same species, and 



t 69 ] 

differ only in order, as, in numbers, two is after 
one. Your heroine you have made a gentle- 
woman originally, and distinguished only by 
some ounces of shining metal. I think it im- 
proper, therefore, that she and her parents 
should ever creep and hold down their heads in 
the dirt ; but as man and wife, father and chil- 
dren, approach with humble decency to a par; 
at least, for my own sake, I should not permit 
it in my wife, had she been a milk-maid. 

But enough of this rhapsody. Now as to your- 
self : I never wrote a book in my life, but I had a 
fit of illness after. Hanging down your head, and 
want of exercise, must increase your giddiness ; 
the body, if jaded, will get the better of the 
spirits. If 3 ou look into my sheets now print- 
ing, you will find that Sir Isaac Newton, when 
he studied or composed, had only a loaf, a 
bottle of sack, and water ; and took no suste- 
nance then, but a slice of bread and a weak 
draught, as he found failure of spirits, from too 
close attention. Even in my very lowest diet of 
three pints of milk and six ounces of bread, in 
twenty-four hours, I abate one half when I 
study, or find my head clouded. Your friend 
and mine, Mr. Bertrand, tells me, you look full, 
puffed, short-necked, and head and face bursting 
with blood ; as if, by your application and se- 
dentary life, the whole system was spouted into 



[ 70 ] 

the head. Under such circumstances I should 
fear an apoplexy for you, if your moderate diet 
did not provide sufficiently against that; but I 
think seven or eight ounces of blood taken every 
two or three months, and the gum, assafa>tida, 
&c. would be Bank security against it. 

Your constitution is not like Dr. Hale*s. 
You are short, round, and plump ; he is taller, 
and very thin, but uses a great deal of exercise* 
Send me down the sheets lately printed. 
I am ever, dear Sir, 

Most sincerely your friend. 

And humble servant, 

GEORGE CHEYNE. 

A good library of sacred history, natural 
philosophy, spiritual divinity, and innocent 
triflers, would be very proper for your heroine ; 
which, if you want, and cannot otherwise pro- 
cure, 1 will help you to. 

LETTER XXII. 

From Dr. Cheyns to Samuel Richaeb- 
SON, Esq, 

* DEAR SIR, Bath, Jan. 10, 1741 -—2. 

I Have been engaged these several 
posts, in writing letters which lay on my hands 



[ 71 ] 

these holidays ; and could not answer yoiir's 
sooner. It is not material to your new regimen, 
these trimming' intermissions you make in it; 
the only inconveniency in it is, that they con- 
tinue your regret for the flesh-pots of Egypt a 
little longer alive ; and you must absolutely die 
to them, that you may live, I tried all those 
tricks long and much, and only found they pro- 
longed my dying pains. On experience, I found 
it best to do as Sir Robert said of the Bishop of 
Sarum, he bravely plunged to the bottom at 
the first jump. He who is in the fire should 
get out as soon as he can ; either the method is 
necessary and safe, or it is not; if it is, the sooner 
the better; if it is not, time only can shew it- 
He that has plenty of wholesome vegetables 
cannot starve; and it is very odd, that what is 
the only antidote for distempers when one has 
them, should cause them wllen one has them 
not, or, at least, has them not to any dangerous 
degree. The coming into the regimen slowly 
can only postpone the distemper it may produce 
a few days or weeks longer ; indeed, all that the 
voluptuous say about that, is mere farce and 
ridicule. As to Chandler, he was ever a volup- 
tuary and epicure, and at venison time every 
year makes himself sick, dispirited, and va- 
pourishing ; and yet he was younger than you, 
when he entered upon it; and I am of opinion if 



[ '2 ] 

he had not, he had been in Bedlam long e'er 
jiow ; for he has naturally a warm imagination, 
and an inflamed fancy. 

Dr. Hulse knows nothing of the matter. He 
is, indeed, a very good practitioner in drugs, and 
on canibalsin their inflammatory distempers ; but 
he knows no more of nervous and cephalic dis^ 
eases, than he does of the mathematics and phi- 
losophy, to which he is a great enemy, and 
without them little is to be made of such dis- 
orders. There may be times and seasons when 
a little indulgence in chicken, and a glass or two 
of wine, may not only be convenient, but ne- 
cessary, as a person stops to take his breath in 
ascending a steep hill ; for example, on cold 
catching, a nausea, or inappetency, &c. 

I can honestly assure you, all the plunges I 
have ever felt these twenty years, since I en- 
tered upon a low rtgimen, have been from my 
errors in quantity, and endeavouring to extend 
it ; and I nevpr get quite free of them, but by 
pumping the excesses up by evacuation, and re- 
turning rigidly to the lujhiest and least I could 
be easy under from the anxiety of hunger; 
and you will find this the surest rule to go by; 
for abstinence, even under a low diet, is some^ 
times as necessary as under a high diet. 

1 find by your's, you go on timorously, grudg- 
ipg"^}'* and repiningly. It is true you are iio% 



[ 73 ] 

a physician, but you are, I hope, a christian. St. 
Paul kept his body under. Our Saviour bids us 
fast and pray, and deny ourselves without ex- 
ception ; but for this there is no need of reve- 
lation advice. If you read but what I have 
written on this last, in the Essay on Regimen, 
as the means of long life and health ; or Cor- 
naro's and Lessius's little treatise, your own good 
sense would readily do the rest; but you puzzle 
yourself with friends, relations, doctors, and apo- 
thecaries, who either know nothing of the matter; 
are well under a common diet ; or, whose interest 
it is, or at least that of the craft, to keep you al- 
ways ailing, or taking poisonous stuff; and so 
you are perplexed and disheartened. I have gone 
the whole road, had one of the most cadave- 
rous and putrified constitutions that ever was 
known; and, I thank God, am returned safe and 
sound at seventy, every way well, but the in- 
curable infirmities of age. And surely he kaows 
the road better, who has gone to, and come 
from, the Cape of Good Hope, and tried all the 
soundings, rocks, shelves, and winds, than those 
who have only seen them in the map. In a word, 
dear Sir, I can give you, in your present state, 
no better advice than I have, were you my 
father or brother, or that my life and fortune 
depended on your being well. So God guide 
you well. 



[ 74 ] 

I have g'ot two dozen of my last book, and 
am very well pleased with the print, paper, and 
binding. I have considered it again and again, 
and cannot mend it for my life, in any thing ma- 
terial. Perhaps the doctrine will not go quite so 
clearly down, so long as I myself am alive; but if 
men grow wiser or better, they will swallow it ; 
and I believe, even as the world is, it will enter- 
tain as well as instruct them, having so many 
interesting incidents in it: so as I hope I shall 
have no reason to fear being used by my new 
booksellers as I was by my last ; and if you see 
any of them, tell them so, if you think fit. 

As to the last part of Pamela, all the fault the 
world has to find with it, is what I told you in my 
last ; they say there is too much preaching in it. 
It is too long, too drawling, and the passions 
not suflaciently agitated. The booksellers here 
say it sells very well, but not so quick as the first. 

When you write me next, let me know how 
many of the last book was printed ; perhaps I 
may add to another edition, or, at least, by 
some additions and alterations, make them dif- 
ferent volumes of one work ; but you know, at 
my time of life, I can promise nothing for futu- 
rity. I am, dear Sir, 

Your most faithful humble servant, 
GEORGE CHEYNE. 



f 75 ] 

LETTER XXIIL 
Dr, Cheyne to Sam. Richardson, Esq, 

BEAR SIR, Bath, Jan. 14, 1742. 

YOU are a little naug-bty : because 
but once, (by having my fingers, ink, and brain 
frozen up by the most excessive cold weather I 
ever felt,) I neglected a few posts answering 
yours; you have been three weeks without writ- 
ing to me, to let me know how it fared with 
you, though you knew it was one of my greatest 
pleasures to hear of your welfare. You was 
resolved only to give me tit for tat ; however, 
I am pleased to hear from you even at your 
own, or any, rate ; and answer yours the very 
post after, only to procure me a more speedy 
return. I think you are quite in the right to 
give over all bleeding for the future. Your 
blood is certainly as good as it can be; which 
absolutely, under God, secures your life, (for 
** in the blood is the life thereof.") So your diet 
will always keep it sweet and balsamic, and 
your whole care is to brace your solids and 
nerves ; but that is a very hard work, and only 
to be performed to a certain point or degree, at 



[ 76 ] 

your time of life. I wish in summer, in the 
long vacation, you would come and try our Lyn- 
combe waters ; they have done great service in 
such a case. Your great admirer, Miss Peggy, 
finds that benefit by them, which only Spa water 
supplies in this cold weather. She is just of the 
same standing with you in the diet. I never 
promised her a total cure under three years ; and 
J fear you will want one more to carry your cure 
as high as it will go. Take all the exercise you 
conveniently can; time must do the rest, and I 
hope much from warm weather and next summer. 
One comfort you must have, that things will 
never be worse than they have been, and that 
there is no danger of life or limbs, further than 
a little tottering, which too will lessen. The 
ten days of so excessive cold weather almost 
deprived me of the use of all my limbs, took 
away my appetite, especially from milk, my 
only support; but, I thank God, since the wea- 
ther has been more temperate, I have, in a great 
measure, recovered all again; though I fear I 
shall never recover my walking again to the 
same degree; and am forced to perform my poo^ 
limbering, tottering exercise within my house^ 
which is neither so pleasant nor so effectual : but 
now I hope the worst of the winter is over, 
and that I shall rise again a little with the in^ 



[ 77 ] 

sects. All ray family, wife, daughters, Nanny, 
&c. (they are honest people) admire you; and if 
you had not very good women of your own, you 
might have your choice. Peggy says, you are 
the perfect original of your own Pamela ; and 
that generosity and giving, which in others are 
only acquired virtues, are in you a natural pas* 
sion; and as others, even the best, only like to 
give as much as to receive, you only like to give. 
I thank you for your oysters, which w^e shall 
receive to-morrow, and your book of pluralities 
when it comes. I have been much distressed 
this low time for choice of kill-time books. 
The public library has afforded none of any 
value ; and though I bribe our booksellers more 
than any others, they can give me nothing. I 
am ashamed to be always begging ; but this now 
I think you will not grudge, since it will cost 
you but little. As soon as you can, send me a 
romance, called the Dean of Colraine. There 
is one part of it in English, which I have seen ; 
I know not if the rest be translated. I would 
rather have it in English; but since, I believe, 
that can't be, if you would send me the French, 
you will oblige me. The first part is inte- 
resting, and much on the side of virtue. 

I hear Pope is to beat Cibber, in an addition 
to his Dunciad. When it appears, I should be 
glad to see it with the first. 



[ 78 ] 

You see I am not shy with you. I can 
oblige you in nothing but my warm wishes, 
and those you have many titles to from. 

Dear Sir, your's, 

GEORGE CHEYNE. 



LETTER XXIV. 
From Dr. Cheyne'^o S. Richardson, Esq, 

BEAR SIR, Bath, Sept, 23, 1742. 

YOUR last gave a great deal of joy 
to me, as well as to your friends and relations. 
I hope truly that your case is not so bad as I at 
first feared, as your friends represented, and as 
your nervous eloquence often painted it, 1 am 
sure your constitution is sound as yet, both 
from your complexion, (which will always shew 
when it is very bad, but not always when it is 
perfectly good, a nervous flush often imitating a 
healthy blush not to be distinguished,) and from 
the state of your blood. 

You have quite a wrong notion about the 
hyp, as in truth all but sensible physicians have. 
We call the hyp every distemper attended with 
lov^ness of spirits, whether it be from indiges- 
tion, head pains, or an universal relaxed state^ 



[ 79 ] 

of the nerves, with numbness, weakness, start- 
ing's, tremblings, &c,! So that the hyp is only 
a short expression for any kind of nervous dis- 
order, with whatever syiifptoms, (which are 
various, nay infinite,) or from whatever cause. 
I should really think your nervous disorder was 
chiefly from want of due exercise, too much head 
work, and great plenty : the beginning of an uni- 
versal palsy, and not what your wise apothecary 
terms it, a hemiplege, which is indeed a half 
body one, and is of the very worst kind. But I 
will, under Goo, insure you against it now; for, 
as I have often told you, when the fire is broken 
and scattered, the conflagration cannot rise to so 
great nor dangerous a height as it did before. 
I think you have gained a mighty point, if you 
can walk from Hammersmith to London down 
to Salisbury Square ; and that, in time, will free 
you from the expense of coaching and ehaising ; 
for, though I think exercise absohiteiy necessary 
for you, it is no matter how ; and next to riding* 
I prefer walking to all kinds of exercise ; and 
though you may not be able to walk from Ham- 
mersmith to London all weather, yet with a 
cloak you may walk the same length in your 
garden, after sweeping off the snow, as I have 
often done, and may do still. As to your old 
apothecary's soot drops, T have often mentioned 
them to you ; and if his be very good, keep them 



r 80 J 

by you to take as a dram, on occasion, or in any 
sadden plunge or lowness ; but as an alterative, 
to be taken by a continuance, they are of no 
use, but on the contrary; and are just a dram 
or an opiat to g'ain time and quiet ; and untver- 
sally, 1 conjure you, to take nothing from an 
apothecary, as long as you can do tolerably 
without. I beseech you, by neither doctor, 
apothecary, patient, or friend, be put out of this 
method ; and (under God) I will answer for 
the success. I am glad yau have got some 
kind of hobby-horse in the bowls ; they ar^ 
an excellent diversion. I wish you would per^ 
suade yourself to learn and delight in billiards. 
It is worth your while to buy a table, and good 
sticks, and balls. It is a charming and manly 
diversion ; and, (which indeed is most valuable,) 
is best in worst weather. Your wife, your 
daughter, your acquaintance, or any one, might 
be brought to be company, in billiards. I 
wish I could have gone into it. It has done 
Mr. Allen more service than any one thing ex- 
cept his diet, and is fit for all ages, conditions^ 
and tempers ; but I have so confined myself, 
that I conld never bear any active diversion. 
It might, in a short time, supply the place of a 
chaise to you. Think on it : if not for health, 
yet for frugality. I would have you, by all 
means, so long as the weather continues good. 



[ sr ] 

get clown with yoitr friend to Salisbury. De^^ 
cline no opportunity of jaunting with any secure 
person, that will let you take your own way ; 
for I well know a nervous person must have 
his own way, both in dietj conversation, exer- 
cise, hours of rest and amusement, else he must 
suffer to extremity at the time, and be worse 
after ; and had I not had this granted me by 
indulgent Heaven, in my situation, and with my 
load of distempers, I must have been extremely 
miserable ; and all nervous persons must be in- 
dulged in these, and in short give up complying 
with, and conforming to, the forms and ceremo^ 
nies established by custom, or other people's 
errors. And it is a wise contrivance in Pro- 
vidence to make the young, the healthy, the 
indigent, servants, both to break the rebellious- 
ness of corrupt nature, and to be able to assist 
the old and tender, especially the nervous. 

_I wish you would think of employing a fit 
person to collect, and write a character and 
contents of, all the books' in the English or 
French, that are fit to amuse and instruct the 
serious and virtuous valetudinarian, of whatever 
kind ; such a catalogue, if judiciously collected 
by a man of virtue and taste, would be a great 
charity ; would be well received by the virtuous 
and serious of all parties ; vrould be of great 
service to the fair sex ; and would keep many 



[ 82 I 

jiersons from the playhouse and the tavern, and 
perhaps from worse places. 

This would come in very aptly with the desig^n 
bf Pamela ; and might, perhaps, be called a cata- 
logue of her library. The character of such 
books should be, that they were on the side of 
pure virtue, without much love affairs ; that they 
were interesting, and gently soothing the ami- 
able passions of friendship, benevolence, and 
charity ; and thirdly, that they had a sufficient 
mixture of the probable and the marvellous to 
keep the soul awake, and prevent its too intense 
thinking on its own misfortunes. Such a cata- 
logue for England would be as useful as Bedlam 
is, and perhaps more so. If this were begun, 
great improvements might be made in it in a 
short time ; and all the ingenious booksellers 
should be requested to club in it, for it would 
be much for their interest, I have set James 
Leake on it, but he can do but little in it, having 
neither sufficient materials, time, nor knowledge. 
It must come through many hands, to be what I 
would have it, London is the only place for it. 
You see how much pains I am at to amuse you, 
but I hope it will not lessen the compliment, 
when I tell you that it equally amuses myself. 
With the best wishes, 

I am ever, dear Sir, your's, 

GEORGE CHEYNE. 



[ 83 T 

LETTER XXV. 
Srom Dr\ Cheyne to S. RicharbsoNj Esq, 

DEAR SIR, Bathy Sept. 17, 1742* 

I Have yours, and am glad you go on 
in the same tenor in the main, though not equally 
hig-h and bright: that is impossible in the nature 
of this Proteus distemper ; but you will be al- 
ways getting ground, though not always sensibly; 
but you must have faith, patience, and perse- 
verance ; w hich, you know, are sublime, christian, 
as well as nervous, virtues. I really expected a 
plunge about the equinoxial season, as I have 
mostly observed in myself, and all nervous pa- 
tients. The luminaries have an effect on animal 
juices, especially the tender and valetudinary, 
analogous to that they have on the ocean and 
atmosphere; but I hope the season is pretty well 
over with you. 

Mr. Chandler is here. His health is high, 
his spirits rather fermenting than placid, his 
complexion fresh, and his activity infinite. He 
is a sensible man, and one of the fittest you can 
converse with. He is in perpetual motion, when 
he does not study ; and says, walking and ex- 
ercise, even delving and working, did him a« 

g2 



- [ 84 ] 

much service, or more, than the medicine, and 
is the next best remedy, except the diet; but I 
blame him, for be* eats meat a little again, once 
or twice a week; but cannot bear a single glass 
of wine, without being the worse for it. Go on, 
and prosper. As to the catalogue of books, for 
tbe devout, the tender valetudinarian, and ner- 
vous, I, and all that I have mentioned it to, be- 
lieve that it would be of greater use in England, 
than any book or mean, that has been proposed, 
to promote virtue, and relieve the distrest. I 
say more than any that has been projected these 
many years, if judiciously and experimentally 
executed by proper persons ; but time, experi- 
ence, and different persons, though all lovers of 
evangelical virtue, must be employed, for others 
can have neither taste nor judgment in such a 
work. It ought to contain a catalogue of all the 
best, easiest, and most genuine books in all the 
arts or sciences; as, first, spiritual and religious 
w^orks, of the most approved and practical books 
of Christianity ; 2dly, the most entertaining 
books of history, natural and politital ; 3dly, 
travels, and the accounts of all countries and 
nations ; 4thly, allegorical adventures and no- 
vels, that are religious, interesting, and probable; 
5thly; poetry, divine and moral; Gthly, choice 
plays, (if any such,) as recommend virtue and 
good manners; with a short character, and a 



[ 85 1 

hint of the design, and a just criticism, in a few 
words, of such books, their editions, and where 
most likely to be found, in English or French, 
to which two languages I would have them 
confined. As to the last part, it must be exe- 
cuted by a person of temperance, virtue, and 
learning ; w ho^ with a good taste, has true lite- 
rature. Where to find such a person, you know 
best ; but I think the parts of it ought to be 
collected by different persons, of different talents, 
and finished and put together by one properly 
qualified person. The best model I can propose, 
would belike the catalogue of the mystic writers, 
published by Mr.Poiret; wherein their character 
and contents are finely and elegantly painted, in 
a small octavo, in Latin, which probably may 
be found at Mr. Vailante's shop in the Strand. 
At least I had it there, being printed in Holland. 
But, indeed, a proper person could do it his own 
way ; and there are variety of models for such a 
work in French, but none in English I know of. 
The schoolmasters who have attempted such a 
thing for their school, being too low. If this 
were finely executed, I know of no book that 
would run better, or be of more service. Every 
serious person, both male and female, especiall}/ 
this last, would have it. Perhaps I can make a 
preface, with some philosophical and medical 
observations to recommend it^ and suggest 



[ 86 ] 

many proper books, particularly books of pliysic, 
which will be absolutely necessary in sneh a 
catalogue, but which I forgot to enumerate in 
the titles of the sciences I have suggested above, 
but which I could promise to collect for such a 
work. In short, think of it : talk of it among 
the brethrea j look out proper persons, and let 
nie see the collections, and I will contribute all 
in my power and leisure to its perfection. It 
m^,y amuse you agreeably, and that will con- 
tribute to your cure j which is most ardently 
"Vyished by, dear Sir, your's, most sincerely, 

GEORGE CHEYNE, 



LETTER XXVL 
To Samuel Richardson, Esq. 

Bath, April 21, 1743. 

PEAR AND HONOURED SIR, 

I Should have given you a letter sooner, 
on a subject you must naturally want to be in- 
formed of, if the ill health of pur family had not 
prevented. Indeed I should have wrote long 
before, if it had been thought necessary to ac- 
qi^^iint the friend? of the late gopd Doctor, of his 
indisposition; but his friends at this place wejre 



L 87 ] 

not less surprised than his absent ones at the 
news of his death. 

It was about ten days before his decease that 
he was confined to the house by illness, together 
with symptoms of the disorder that has lately 
spread itself so universally. On Thursday, about 
{ive days after the seizure, my father visited the 
Doctor; Mr. Bertrand did the same the day 
following"; but my father's illness coming- on 
the day following prevented me paying the 
duty I owed to a great and good friend. We 
continued daily our inquiries, but never received 
an answer that alarmed us with an apprehension 
of his danger. But, alas! the whole time he 
wasted prodigiously. 

Though the Doctor's friends were not appre- 
hensive of his imminent danger, he himself was. 
He talked to his family of his death as of a 
natural consequence, though he did not imagine 
it so near; and it was not till the day before it 
happened, that he consulted a physician. Dr. 
Hartley was sent for, but he was at Mr. Allen's;* 
and when he came down in the evening, Dr. 
Middleton, Mrs. Cheyne's brother, was come 
over from Bristol, and had been with the Doctor. 
He went into the bedchamber, but the Doctor 
was dozing. The next morning he visited him 
about eight : be was then very easy, but bis puls<2 
* Prior- Park. 



[ 88 ] 

was g-oae. He did not know Dr. Hartley, as he 
had not seen him in his illness, bnt he was still 
sensible. It was not above ten minutes after he 
left him, that the Doctor left this world. His 
death was easy, and his senses .remained to 
the last. 

To consider the circumstances of your health, 
and that there is taken from you, by the Divine 
wisdom, one in whose mind the direction of it 
was a good deal lodged ; it is impossible b.it we 
must look to the Almighty Disposer, and then 
see the same power capable of making up that 
loss to you a thousand different ways. Reflec- 
tions of this sort are natural ; and we must know, 
that these, and much greater, are as natural to 
you. Even the wisest sentiments on this head 
would be but a repetition of your thoughts. The 
ivorld has lost a,, able physician; you, my dear 
Sir, a valuable friend; and I, one greater than 
my merit. As long as health shall be reckoned 
a blessing, and the preservation of life a duty, 
both rich and poor must condole the death of 
their common benefactor; and those honourable 
families, which have so frequently and succes- 
sively resorted hither for his advice," must now be 
daily more sensible of the power of diseases, and 
apprehensive of their approaching fate. 

Your's, &c. .___ 



[ 89 3 

Dr. HARTLEY, 

DAVID HARTLEY, Esq; 

Mrs. MARY HARTLEY. 



Doctor Hartley, the celebrated author of ^^ Ob- 
'* servations on Man, his Frame, his Duty, and his 
*' ExpevSlations," was born at Illingworth in Yorkshire, 
the 30th of August, 1705, and died at Bath the 28th of 
the same month. 1757, at the age of 52 years. It is a 
rare occurrence in the history of the human mind, to 
find such deep powers of reasoning so early developed, 
as was the case in Dr. Hartley. But he was a philo- 
sopher almost from boyhood, and manifested a turn for 
reflediion, religious and moral enquiry, and metaphysical 
speculation, at that youthful season, which is usually 
devoted to thoughtlesness and dissipation, or at best to 
the pursuits of fancy and imagination. His piety was 
ardent, but devoid of enthusiasm, as appears from his 
letters ; and also from a series of beautiful and affe6ling^ 
prayers, which he composed for his own private use 
between the 2 1 st and 30th years of his age. Dr. Hartley 
was held in the highest estimation by the greatest, wisest, 
and best men of the last age ; who were attracted to his 
friendship, not more by an admiration of his intellect, 
than an affection for the excellence of his heart. His 
system, as faras regards the association of ideas, still con- 
tinues to be popular; and although the physiological part 
of it has been in a great measure exploded; yet it must 
be recollected, that the arguments against it are still 
only negative^ and that its opponents have not offered 



[ 90 ] 

to the world any thing more satisfactory than it on the 
subject, or which better harmonizes with the known 
phenomena of mind. The letters from his daughtey, 
Mrs. Mary Hartley, which follow, contain so many 
interesting particulars of the Doctor's life, character, 
and opinions, that it is unnecessary lo add more re- 
specting them at present. We pass on, therefore, to 
Pay ID Hartley, the son of Dr. H. by his first wife, 
who was born in the year 1735, and who inherted much 
of his father's acuteness, with all his moral virtues. 
With the advantage of an excellent education, which 
had been polished by travel, Mr. David Hartley early 
entered on political life, represented the town of Hull 
in many successive Parliaments, and was appointed 
Minister Plenipotentiary at the Court of Versailles, to 
settle with Dr. Franklin preliminaries of peace after the 
J\merican war, which he signed, on the behalf of the 
British Court, in 1783. 

Plain in his mode of life, retired in his habits, and 
with great simplicity of character and manner, Mr. 
Hartley seemed better qualified for philosophical lei- 
sure, than the bustle of a political career; and the 
hours which he borrowed from public business, were 
devoted to scientific pursuits, and useful as well as 
ingenious inventions. Amongst the latter may be 
mentioned the iron plates, for under-casing the iloors of 
apartments, in order to prevent accidents from fire; for 
which contrivance a reward was voted to him, by Par- 
liament, of £2500, He died the 2Sd day of December,, 
1814, aged 84. 

Mrs. Mary Ha rtley was the daughter of Dr. Hartley, 
by his second wife. Equally remarkable for snperior 
understanding, and elegant acquirement, she possessed 
every qualification for attracting a large share of public 
admiration, h^d not a« amiable diflide^<?e, and i^n uu^ 



[ 91 ] 

common share of humility, prevented any display of 
the rich stores of her mind, beyond the circle of her 
immediate friends. That circle, indeed, was of wide 
extent, as all who once became acquainted with her, and 
were capable of appreciating her merit, were desirous 
of beins: received within its limits. 

To the scholar, Mrs. M. Hartley was a companion 
on his own ground. Her knowledge of the dead lan» 
guages was considerable; and her acquaintance with 
Italian, French, Sec. familiar. The productions of her 
pen were marked b}^ good sense, and elegance of com- 
position; and she exercised her pencil with taste and 
skill. But the chief excellencies of this admirable 
woman were, her exalted piety, and active benevolence; 
her uniform exercise of all the charities of private, 
domestic life; and the meek resignation, and truly 
Christian fortitude, with which she cheerfully sustained, 
during many years, pain, sickness, and permanent 
decrepitude. She died July 7th, i803, aged 66 years. 



LETTER XXVn. 



From Mrs. M. Hartley to the Rev. 
William GiLPiN. 

DEAR ^iR, July 18, 1795. 

rniHE papers that I wish to send you, are two 

-*- letters of my father's. You have sent me 

some m«st excellent letters, and most interesting, 

Jt was a qonftdenpe which I knew well how to 



L 93 ] 

value- and 1 think 1 cannot better repay it, than 
by commimi eating to yon the letters of a worthy 
man, whom, if you had known, you would have 
loved. Those letters have been lately put into 
my hands by a relation. One of them was written 
when he was at school, only sixteen years of age. 
I was pleased to see in it the proof of that vir- 
tuous and ingenious mind, which I know he 
possessed in his later years ; and which I have 
always heard was remarkable in him from the 
earh'est period. You will see in that letter an 
observation, that " whatever a young- man at 
*' first applies himself to, is commonly his delight 
** afterwards.'* This certainly is not a new or 
singular thought ; but when I consider the ob- 
ject of his future book, to infer from his system 
of vibrations and associations, that .the mind 
receives ideas and impressions, from associations 
with former ideas and impressions, and that 
virtue may be thus generated by custom and 
habit ; I am inclined to think that this was in his 
head, when he wrote that letter; particularly as 
1 have heard from himself, that the intention 
of writing a book upon the nature of man was 
conceived in his mind, when he was a very little 
loy. He was not a boasting man, nor ever spoke 
an untruth; but in many conversations that I 
have had with him about his book, he has told 
me, that when he v/as so little as to be swinging* 



[ 93 ] 

backwards and forwards upon a gate, (and, I 
should suppose, not above nine or ten years old,) 
he was meditating upon the nature of his own 
mind; wishing to find out how man was made; 
to what purpose, and for what future end; in 
short, (as he afterwards entitled his book,) ' the 
* Frame, the Duty, and the Expectation of Man.' 
When he WTote the second letter, I conclude 
that all these ideas were farther matured, though 
I know not whether he had then begun to arrange 
them in the form of a book. He w^as then 29, 
a widower, and had been so four years. The 
little boy he speaks of was my brother, David 
Hartley, whose mother died when he was born. 
You will be pleased, as I am, to see the temperate 
system which he had adopted, and which, indeed, 
was the system of his life from the beginning to 
the end. 

The benevolence which he expresses was his 
natural temper, but it was improved by the 
principles of virtue; and it seems to me to be 
farther confirmed by that supposition which 
he touches upon in this letter, and afterwards 
expresses more fully in his book, that future pu- 
nishment cannot be vindictive and eternal; but 
however long, or severe, must be intended for 
purification and reformation. How far thi» 
supposition may, or ought to, be adopted, I know 
not. Learned men have been of various opinions^; 



C 94 ] 

much lias been said on both sides, and it is not 
for me to determine which preponderates ; but 
it seems to me, that the feelings which my father 
expresses are the natural effects of this opinion. 
It certainly must ex<iite, and improve, the love of 
God, and love to man. Those who believe that 
future punishment is vindictive and eternal, 
without any purpose of repentance and amend- 
ment, mu^i fear God, much more than they can 
love him. And if they believe that this eternal 
punishment arises from eternal incorrigible wick- 
edness ; and that those who have left this world, 
without accepting the terms of salvation offereci- 
here, will be excluded hereafter from all hopes 
of future repentance, becoming more and more, 
through all eternity, the enemies of God, and 
the accomplices of devils ; they must find such a 
creed a great impediment in the way of universal 
love. We know not the hearts of men, neither 
can we discern who will be incorrigible, or who 
repentant ; but while we believe that some will 
be incorrigible, how can we give love with any 
eoiifidence to those who may be, for any thin^ 
we know, the enemies of God, and the eternal 
objects of his hatred and vengeance! 

God forgive me for speaking so profanely 
of his infinite mercy and goodness! I cannot too 
soon unsay it. ** God is love;" " Jiis mercy is 
'* over all his works •/' arid he " cannot hate anj 



[ 95 ] 

" thing' tliat he has made.'' Though it must be 
in his nature to hate vice ; yet since he is infi- 
nitely wise and powerful, as well as good, surely 
he must have means to eradicate vice from the 
heart of man. It rnay be by dreadful punish- 
ments, such as merely to think of must excite the 
strongest compassion for others, and terror for 
ourselves, lest we, or they, should be destined 

" To fast in fires, 
'* Till the foul crimes done in cue days of nature 
'^ Are burnt, and purg'd away." 

Yet will the hope that they will at last be 
" burnt, and purged away ;" that the time will 
come, w hen God shall be all in all ; when ail 
shall be brought to him ; when *' no man shall 
*' need to say to another, ' Know the Lord/ 
" for all shall know him from the least to the 
" greatest/' These hopes console the dejected 
mind; they disperse (as my father says) all 
g*loomy and superstitious thoughts ; they teach 
a man to be indifferent to this world, yet to enjoy 
it more from a confidence in that Being, " whose 
*' mercy is over all his works;" they teach a 
man to love every other man; and to believe, 
that, however injurious or criminal he may now 
be, God loves, though he cannot approve him ; 
that though he punish him, it shall be in mercy, 
to make him perfect; and that, though a man 
may be our enemy now, the time will come, when 



[ 96 ] 

he shall be our friend, and our brother. This 
was my father's doctrine, when / knew him, as 
A?ou see it was before I was born ; and to this 
opinion, as well as to the kindness of his temper? 
and the virtues of his mind, I attribute that 
disposition, which made him never converse with 
a feilow-creature, without feelingaAvishtodo him 
g-ood. I have conversed a good deal, since I 
lived here, with a very clever old lady, who was 
formerly a great friend of my father and mother. 
Her parents were French refugees, who escaped 
from the persecution of Louis XIY. She was 
brought up in the severity of the Calvinistical 
tenets; but by some accident, when she was a 
girl, she met with *' Pelit Pierre sur kc Bonte 
*' de Dieu;'' and she ran to her governess, skip- 
ping and jumping, and crying out with transport, 
'* Ah! Madam, how / love God!" The go- 
verness answered, with formal gravity, " Why, 
" child, did you not always love him ?" " No, 
** indeed. Madam,'* answered the child, " I never 
*« did till now:' 

Believe me, dear Sir, 

Your's, affectionately, 

M. H. 



[ 97 J 



LETTER XXVIII. 

Pi'om Di\ Hartley, when sixteen years of age ^ 
to his Sister, 

DEAR SISTER, Bradford, Oct, S, 1721. 

I Take this opportunity to send you 
Bishop Beveridge's Private Thoughts, with 
that other book, which I found accidentally at 
Mr. John Wilkinson's. I wish I could say I 
was perfectly well : but, however, I am much 
better, and following my school business very 
diligently. Pray be not discouraged, I am in 
very good hands. My master and Mr. Kennett 
(our vicar) will do all they can for me, I am 
assured. Pray take my advice, as from one ex- 
perienced, (though younger than yourself,) to 
behave yourself cheerfully and briskly at all 
times. We hear of several persons, and I am 
sure my aunt can give you some instances, that 
have been preferred on account of some very 
trifling actions, in which they have shewn their 
activity and care. I would have you spend all 
the time you can reasonably spare from vour 
business, in reading. T ^peak not only of reli- 
gious books, (though I would have them to be 
your chief care,) but of such as will innocently 

H 



[ 98 ] 

divert, or fit you for company. You are youii^ 
yet, and I hope nothing of ill is so rooted in, but 
that it may easily be worn out. Take care you 
harbour nothing* of envy, hatred, malice, covet- 
ousness, revenge, detraction ; the world is so full 
of the lasl, that I am sure, sister, you and I 
ought to be on our guard. Be sure you never 
pollute your mouth with any such things ; rather 
turn off the discourse, or excuse your neighbour 
a:^ charitably as truth will allow. I believe it 
will be neither a useless nor a false observation, 
that whatever a young person applies himself at 
first to, is commonly his delight afterwards. 
What 'I argue from hence is, that if you and 
I perform our duty to God, our neighbour, and 
ourselves, as well as human infirmity will permit, 
and at all times be discreet, active, and cheerful, 
we shall receive more satisfaction, than the most 
voluptuous person : and it will be infinitely to 
our advantage in this world, and in the ensuing 
eternity. I beg of you not to neglect the Sacra- 
inent; for, assure yourself, no pretence will excuse 
you before Christ at the last day. But in this, 
and all your spiritual exercises, do not think God 
regards the time, but the heart. If you forgive 
all men, and be in charity with them; and be 
thankful and humble to God, your short prayers 
(where longer are inconvenient to you) will bq 
accepted > but without these, the longest will not. 



[ 99 ] 

!Pray give my duty to my aunt and uncle. I 
beg" pardon for not behaving' to her as I ought ; 
and return her thanks for all her care and kind- 
ness. Dear sister, accept of my best advice and 
love. You may observe, that I recommend 
cheerfulness and quickness to you, as what I fear 
both you and I are defective in* 

1 am your's, &c* 

D. HARTLEY. 

1 am turned preacher, as agreeable to the day, 
in this letter ; but if you will send me an ans vver, 
the next shall be more entertaining. I am in 
good hopes to get £15 or £16 a year in the 
University, and am fitting myself for that ho- 
nourable society. 

Pray pardon haste. 



LETTER XXIX* 
From Dr. Hartley, a^ed 29, to Mrs. Booth^ 

DEAR SISTER, BurT/, 3farch 2, 1734-5, 

I Received yours some time ago, aiid 
wrote the next post to my sister Sarah ; but as 
I had a letter, a post or two ago, from my brother 

h2 



[ 100 ] 

Jolin, which mentions nothing of her, I am 
afraid my letter to her has miscarried. Pray 
enquire about it, and let me know how she does. 
My little boy* is very well. Mr. Walton 
and I manage our house tolerably well. We 
are both very abstemious, and neither drink ale 
nor wine ; which, besides the advantage it is of 
to my health and spirits, keeps me from a great 
deal of troublesome company, and saves a con- 
siderable expense. I study much harder than I 
ever did, and am much more cheerful and happy. 
I have lately gained the knowledge of some 
things in physic, which have been of great use 
to me ; but the chief of my studies are upon 
religious subjects, and especially upon the true^ 
meaning of the Bible. I cannot express to you 
what inward peace and satisfaction these con- 
templations afford me. You remember how much 
I was overcome with superstitious fears, when I 
^as very young. I thank God, that He has at 
last brought me to a lively sense of his infinite 
goodness and mercy to all his creatures; and 
that I see it both in all his works, and in ever}*^ 
page of his word. 

This has made me much more indifferent to 

the world than ever, at the same time that I 

enjoy it more ; has taught me to love every man, 

smd to rejoice in the happiness vs^hich our Hea- 

* The late David Hartley, esq. 



[ 101 ] 

venly Father intends for all his children ; and 
has quite dispersed all the gloomy and melancholy 
thoughts which arose from the apprehension of 
eternal misery for myself or my friends. How 
long", or how much, God will punish wicked 
men, He has no where said ; and, therefore, I 
cannot at all tell ; but of this I am sure, that in 
^^ judgment He will remember merci/;"" that " He 
" will not be extreme to mark what is done 
" amiss;" that '• He chastens only because He 
"'^ loves j" that " He will not return to destroy ;" 
because he is God, not man, ^. e, has none of 
our foolish passions and resentments; that *^ his 
" tender mercies are over all his works;" and 
that " He is love itself." I could almost trans- 
cribe the whole Bible; and the conclusion I 
draw from all this is, first, that no man can ever 
be happy, unless he is holy ; unless his affections 
be taken off from this vain world, and set upon a 
better; unless he loves God above all things, 
and his neighbour as himself : Secondly, that all 
the evils and miseries which God sends upon 
us, are for no other purpose but to bring us to 
Himself; to the knowledge and practice of our 
duty; and that, as soon as that is done, they will 
have an end. Many men are so foolish as to 
fight against God all their lives, and to die full 
of obstinacy and perverseness. However, God'« 
method of dealing with them in another world 



[ 102 3 

IS still full of mercy, at the same time that it is 
gevere. He will force them to comply, and 
make them happy, whether they will or no. In 
the mean time, those who are of an humble and 
contrite heart, have nothing to fear, even here, 
God will conduct them through all the afflic- 
tions, which He thinks fit to lay upon them for 
their good, with infinite tenderness and com- 
passion. 1 wish these thoughts may be as ser- 
viceable to you, as they have been to me. My 
best respects. Your's, 

D. HARTLEY, 



LETTER XXX. 

From Mrs. M. Hartley to the Rev. 
William Gilpin^ 

DEAR SIR, Belvedere f 1796. 

I Am very glad that you were pleased 
with my father's letters. The account of his 
life, which you recommended to our filial piety, 
has been already given by my brother D. H. 
in the second edition of my father's work, which 
was reprinted by Johnson in 1791. 

It is an history of my father's principles and 
opinions, particularly with relation to his book. 



[ 103 ] 

This subject my brother D. H. was able to treat 
more scientifically than my brother W. H. or I 
could have done; but we all joined, with truth 
and affection, in bearing testimony to his amiable 
moral character. 

It was equally the sentiment of us all^ from 
faithful recollection, " that his mind was formed 
** to benevolence and universal philanthropy. 
*' It arose from the union of talents in the moral 
** science with natural philosophy, and particu- 
** larly from the professional knowledge of the 
** human frame, that Doctor Hartley was enabled 
** to bring into one view the various arguments 
*' for his extensive system, from^the first rudi- 
" ments of sensation, through the maze of com- 
*' plex affections and passions in the path of life, 
*' to the final, moral end of man. 

*' He was industrious and indefatigable in the 
** pursuit of all collateral branches of knowledge 
** and lived in personal intimacy with the learned 
'* men of his age. Dr. Law, Dr, Butler, Dr. 
*' Warburton, afterwards Bishops of Carlisle, 
** Durham, and Glocester, and Dr. Jortin, were 
*' his intimate friends, and fellow-labourers in 
** moral and religious philosophy, in metaphysics, 
" in divinity, and ecclesiastical history. He 
** was much attached to the highly respected 
** character of Bishop Hoadley, for the liberality 
" of his opinions both in church and state, and 



[ 104 ] 

^' for the freedom of his religious sentiments. 
^* Dr. Hales, and Dr. Smith, master of Trinity 
*^ college, Cambridge, with other members of 
^' the Royal Society, were his companions in the 
" sciences of optics, statics, and other branches 
" of natural philosophy. Mr. Hawkins Browne, 
" the author of an elegant Latin poem, " De 
'* Animi Immortalitaie,'' and Dr. Young, the 
^' moral poet, stood high in his esteem. Dr. 
** Byrom, the inventor of a scientific short-hand 
" writing, was much respected by him for useful 
*' and accurate judgment in the branch of phi - 
^* lology. Mr. Hook, the Roman historian, and 
'^ disciple of the Newtonian chronology, was 
** amongst his literary intimates., The celebrated 
** Mr. Pope was likewise admired by him, not 
** only as a man of genius, but also as a moral poet. 
** A^et as Dr. Hartley was a zealous christian 
** without guile, and (if the phrase may be ad- 
** mittec!) a partizan for the christian religion, 
" he felt some jealousy of the rivalship of human 
" philosophy ; and regarded the " Essay on Man," 
" by Mr. Pope, as tending to insinuate, that the 
*' divine revelation of the Christian religion was 
" superfluous, in a case where human pilosophy 
" wa.> adequate. He suspected the secret in- 
** flue nee of Lord Eo ling broke as guiding the 
*' poetical pen of his unsuspecting friend, to deck 
^* out, in borrowed plumes, the plagiarisms of 



[ 105 ] 

^Mnodern ethics, from christian doctrines; not 
*' without farther distrust of the insidious effect 
" of poetic license, in softening" some iinaccom- 
'* modating" points of moral truths. It was 
*^ against this principle that bis jealousy was di- 
*^ rected. His heart, from conscious sympathy 
** of human infirmities, was devoid of religious 
" pride. His only anxiety was, to preserve the 
" rule of life inviolate, because he deemed errors 
'* of human frailty less injurious to the moral 
'* cause, than systematical perversions of its 
^* principle." 

I could not help quoting this passage, because 
it is that part of his character which I know 
will interest you most; and you grstify me by 
saying, that you have alw ays had an high respect 
for him. The physician you speak of, who lived 
in Nottinghamshire, must have been him. He 
practised first at Newark, when he w^as a very 
young man ; and before he was married to his 
first vi'ife, D. H.'s mother. She was the daughter 
of a Mr. Rowley, a lawyer, in Essex, of a re- 
spectable family; and I have het\rd she was very 
handsome, and very engaging. He was extremely 
in love with her, but he did not enjoy his union 
with her for more than a year, for she died in 
bringing D. FI. into the world. He was ex- 
tremely afilicted, and remained attached to her 
meippry all his life; notwithstanding that, he had 



[ 106 ] 

the strongest and most rational friendship foP 
my mother, who was (as long as she retained her 
understanding) a woman of a most exalted mind, 
elegant, accomplished, and uniting *' manly sense 
** to more than female tenderness/* He re- 
spected, esteemed, and loved her; but his first 
wife had had his youthful heart. He once gave 
me some Latin lines he made upon her death. I 
now know not where to seek them : if ever I 
find them, I will enclose them to you. You say, 
that, " by the dates, you imagine the physician 
^' who lived in Notts could not be my father;'* 
but this was possibly from your not being aware 
how very young he was at that time. He was 
born in 1 705 ; and I suppose he could not be 
more than 22 or 23 years of age, when he prac- 
tised at Newark, When ho married Miss Rowley, 
he could not be more than 24. He then settled 
at Bury, where he was much known and esteemed 
by all the principal families in that neighbour, 
hood ; particularly those of Lord Cornwallis, and 
Lord Townshend. The old Lord Townshend 
(then Secretary of State) treated him with as 
much kindness as if he had been an additional 
son, and all the sons and daughters as an addi- 
tional brother. The same friendly attachment 
continued to subsist between this family and ours 
since my father's death. 



r 107 ] 

I used to spend a great deal of time in the 
house of Mr. Thos. Tovvnskend, (Lord Sydney's 
father,) as long as he lived. I never knew a 
more ingenuous and affectionate mind than his; 
and amono* the most intimate and cordial friends 
I have ever had in the world, are his sons and 
daughters, Lady Middleton and LadyTownshend. 

Neither, indeed, does this descent of affection 
stop here ; for all Lady Middleton's children, 
and all Lord Sydney's, (though of the latter I 
have seen little since they were children,) are 
still my friends, as their parents were. 

This continuation of friendship is delightful 
to me; particularly as I owe it originally to the 
excellent characters and dispositions of my father 
and mother. 

But to proceed with my history. It was in 
1735, that my father married my mother. She 
was the daughter of Robert Parker, member for 
Berkshire. I know not exactly how he became 
acquainted with her, hnt I believe it was at the 
house of one of her relations, \vho liv^d in Suffolk. 
Her family were against the match, and did for 
some time retard it ; but her father was dead ; 
she was her own mistress, and she followed that 
inherent love of virtue, which taught her, that 
the affection of a heart like my father's was of 
more value than wealth or titles. Her brothers 
thought not so; and though my father was the 



[ 108 ] 

kindest of brothers to them, they treated him 
always with hauteur. They died at last without 
heirs, and my miother of course inherited the 
settled estate ; but even then they left from her 
the unsettled part, and gave it to my brother 
W. H, over her husband. This was a disrespect 
to my mother, which I think she must have felt ; 
but her disposition was of the meekest, gentlest 
nature, and she never shewed it. 

My uncles were men of the world, and men 
of pleasure. They knew not my father's value ; 
and were even offended with him for the true 
kindness he shewed them, in giving them good 
advice. They drank hard, which you know 
•was a vice, that compelled him, both as a physi- 
cian and a moralist, to endeavour to dissuade 
them from. At such interference they would 
sometimes be angry; but when they were in 
their best humour with him, they w^ould sa\'^ 
" You foolish dog, can'st you see, that the sooner 
" we kill ourselves, the better it will be for you 
<* and your family." He did, notwithstanding, 
persist in his kind endeavours ; and I find among 
his MS. devotions, a very anxious and ardent 
prayer for them. 

From the year 1735 or 1736, to 1742, my 
father lived in London,wherehehad great prac- 
tice; but at that time he left town, partly on ray 
mother's account, who was thought to be con- 



[109 ] 

sumptive, and partly because he bad a painful 
complaint himself, which made him unable to 
bear the motion of a carriag-e. In 1742 he 
settled at Bath, where he remained till he died, 
except when he went for the summer to one of 
my mother's country houses. Once we spent 
nearly a year at Donnington Castle, where my 
father had some thoughts of residing ; and though 
he afterwards returned to Bath, yet he went as 
often as he was able to Little Sodbury, where 
my brother W. H. was educated under a pri- 
vate tutor. 

But these are little circumstances, of no con- 
sequence ; and my brother has not mentioned 
them in his sketch of my father's life. Biogra- 
phical writers are often too circumstantial in 
little things, which are not characteristic, par- 
ticularly with regard to men who have been 
memorable by their writings, and not by their 
actions. In the life of a General, it is material 
to know in what part of the world he spent such 
and such years; but it is not material to know 
in what town an author wrote such and such a 
book. What relates to his temper and turn of 
mind is material; therefore it is proper to say^ 
(and my brother has said,) that my father's pro- 
fession was not that for which he was orig^inallv 
intended. He directed his studies for a long" 
time to divinity, and intended to have taken 



[ 110 ] 

orders; but upon closer consideration of the 
conditions attached to the clerical profession, he 
felt scruples, which made him reluctant to sub- 
scribe to the Thirty-nine Articles. Yet he was 
by no means a dissenter, as Dr. Priestley has 
had a mind to make the world believe. On 
the contrary, my father, though doubtful about 
some theological points, thought them of Httle 
consequence to real morality ; and he conformed 
to the customs of the Established Church, at- 
tending its worship constantly. 

Perhaps I ought to apologize for troubling 
you with so much family history ; but as I have 
been used to receive from you the most inte- 
resting histories of your own family, I hope I 
don't flatter myself too much, in supposing that 
you may be as much interested about mine, as 
I am about yours. 

For my jjiide in delineating their amiable 
virtues, I will not apologize ; because I believe 
you will feel with me, that there is a rational 
pride in the consciousness of being descended 
from worthy characters; and this pride, perhaps^, 
becomes even praiseworthy, if it stimulate us 
to endeavour to imitate or emulate them. 

Believe me, dear Sir, 

Your sincere and affectionate friend,. 

M. H. 



E ni ] 



LETTER XXXI. 

JFrom Dr, Hartliiy, to his son Davib Hart- 
ley, Esq; on his setting out on his Travels* 

MY DEAR CHILD, Soclburif, Aug. 1755. 

AS you are now entering upon a new 
and important scene of life, in which you will 
both enjoy great opportunities of improving 
yourself in all that is praiseworthy, and be ex- 
posed to many temptations ; I think it my duty, 
as your most affectionate parent, and sincerest 
friend in this world, to give you, in writing, the 
best instructions I am able to do in regard to 
your conduct. They may be the last I shall ever 
give you, for life is uncertain where the prospect 
is fairest; and besides this, 1 ought to bear in 
mind my advancing years, and particular infirmi- 
ties, and you the hazards that necessarily attend a 
course of travels. May God teach us both " so 
" to number our days, that we may apply our 
" hearts to wisdom." May He give me a mouth, 
and wisdom to speak, and you ears to hear; and 
so bless what I shall say, that you may pass 
through this world with health of body and 
mind, with the love and esteem of your friends, 
and with a competency of all that is necessary 
Qr convenient for you ; and at your departure 



[ 112 ] 

from it, be rewarded with that crown of glory 
which lie hai^ prouiised to all that love and 
obey hini. 

The first and principal precept is, what I liave 
just now mentioned, to love and obey God. I 
might have added, to fear Him ; because this is 
also a scriptural precept, and arises necessarily' 
from the consideration of his infinite povver, pu- 
rity, knowledge, and justice. But if we love 
and obey God, the fear of Him will be no more 
than a limited filial fear; consistent with the 
reasonable enjoyments of the blessings of this 
life, and even productive of the inestimable 
hopes of happiness in another, i. e* as St, John 
expresses it, ** Perfect love casteth out all such 
** fear as hath torment.'* But now, you will say, 
I know that it is my duty and only happiness 
to love and obey God, but how shall I do this? 
" I delight in the law of God, after the inner 
** man, but I ^nd another law in my members, 
" warring against the law of my mind." — Pray 
to him for help and strength. He can and will 
give you the victory. You Imow that there is 
nothing in my power that / should deny you ; 
but you are his child moi^e than you are mine^ and 
He loves you infinitely belter than 1 can. With 
how^ much certainty, then, may you expect that 
He will give you his holy spirit, if yott ask Him ; 
and that He will make his yoke easy, and his 



[ 113 ] 

burthen light, if you will take them upon you ! 
and that He will enable you to do that with 
pleasure, which, to our corrupt nature, seems 
impossible. 

A belief of the real efficacy of prayer is es- 
sential, both to religion and to comfort. But 
what is more evident, according either to reasom 
or to scripture, than that the Author of our 
spirits expects homage from them, and will give 
blessings in return? The principal use and 
intent of all earthly appellations, relations, trans- 
actions, &c. is, not to produce earthly happiness, 
(for that, you must see, and feel, is very little, when 
accounts are fairly balanced,) but to be patterns 
of heavenly things, and, like the law, school- 
masters to brin^ us to Christ. Do not, there- 
fore, entertain an opinion, which is too much 
favoured by some very good books, that the use 
of prayer is to alter and improve our own minds, 
by raising devout affections of a proper kind in 
them : this is a great and real use, undoubtedly ; 
but we shall never pray with that requisite ne- 
cessary, faith, unless we go like children to their 
parents, or like subjects to a gracious prince. 
This is the language of the scriptures, and agree- 
able to the plain reason of the thing ; and if we 
apply to God in this manner, purifying our 
hearts and hands, so that we may be assured of 
obtaining what we ask, or something better, or 

I 



t 114 ] 

both one atid the other : which last is, perhaps, 
g-enerally the case, where men pray with great 
earnestness, perseverance, and resignation. 

The same plain reasons, and scripture expres- 
sions, shew the great obligation and happiness 
6f public prayer as well as private, and of fre- 
quenting the sacrament. Let me just remind 
you of that remarkable promise of our Saviour, 
'* Where two or three are gathered together in 
*^ my name, there am I in the midst of them.'* 

I will add one word with regard to mental 
prayer, I mean not only frequent incidental 
ejaculations in the course of the day, but more 
devout aspirations of the heart to God, without 
distinct expressions ; and which may be called 
the great secret of a pious and happy life. But 
1 find it very difficult to attain to this great 
secret. I am persuaded, however, that it is at- 
tainable; and may be practised, not only without 
interruption to the proper business and innocent 
pleasures of human life, but also to the unspeak- 
able joy of all those who labour after it in earnest. 
The means of grace next of importance to 
prayer, is the reading of religious books. W$ 
may, by these means, bring our minds to right 
dispositions, and by degrees arrive at the happy 
stale of making duty and pleasure coincide. 
Don't grudge the time that is thus spent in the 
transformation of your mind. Mens cujusque 



t 113 1 

est qidsque. If you bring* yourself to delight in 
that which you may always have here, in that 
treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust 
cloth corrupt, and which no thief can steal away^ 
your state wdll be paradisaical, even in this world. 
Depend upon it, there are persons who have at- 
tained to this happy states and though they be 
few, though the greater part even of those few 
be such as have been forced from their vices and 
evil habits by great affliction, yet, the blessing 
is offered to all, to the young, and healthy, and 
prosperous, as well as to others. It is, however, 
more particularly attainable by those who have 
had a religious education, and are endowed with 
generous principles. These persons have a more 
ready conception of the language of good books, 
and their hearts sympathise more intensely with 
the sentiments contained therein; and I hope 
that you are in this happy number. But if it 
should be difficult and irksome to you, at first, 
thus to cultivate and improve your own mind by 
religious books ; do it, however, as a matter of 
duty and necessity, from the hopes of heaven, 
and the fears of hell : and, depend upon it, 
(experto crede,) time will make it delightful. It 
is necessary that the soul should be transformed 
into the image of Christ, befora we die ; and 
it must be adorned with meekness, humility, 
viiul purity, love of God, and love of our nei^-h- 

1 2 



[ 116 3 

bour ^ else we shall be shut out from the joys of 
heaven at the day of judgment, and confined to 
all the horrors and miseries of hell. 

What words, then, can express the madness 
of those persons, who, having an easy and cer- 
tain method proposed to them by prayer, and 
fasting, and meditation, of obtaining heaven, 
and escaping hell, do, notwithstanding, refuse 
to comply with it. And yet this is the case of 
the generality of irreligious persons, in this land 
of light and liberty, where there are so many 
opportunities^ calls, and advantages. Let me 
add one thing more, viz. that there can be no 
excuse for not reading religious books. This is 
absolutely in our power; and, therefore, the 
neglect of it is an unpardonable offence in the 
eye of God, who knows all our thoughts, de- 
vices, and designs, and consequently knows, that 
if we do not come to the light, it is for fear that 
our evil passions and habits should be con- 
demned thereby. 

The religious books which I would recom- 
mend are, first, the scriptures, and then the 
practical writings of those persons known to 
have led holy and religious lives. If you con- 
verse with such persons in their writings, you 
will, by the blessing of Gob, acquire the good 
dispositions and tempers for which they were 
eminent, and obtain *^ that peace which passeth 



[ 117 ] 

*' all understanding." Their descriptions of the 
virtues and vices will put you upon your guard 
in the various circumstances and events of life ; 
and teach you what to do, and what to avoid, in 
particulars ; for I have no doubt of your sincere 
desire to please and serve God in general. But 
you, like all other young persons of eager tem- 
per, are carried on to act, or tempted to neglect, 
without duly considering the nature of the action, 
or omission ; and a repeated action, or omission, 
comes, after some time, to be a habit. Now, if 
you have your memory well stored with that vari- 
ety of short, evident precepts, which occur m prac- 
tical books, virtue will get the start of vice upon 
sudden occasions of life, at least it will not be far 
behind it ; and may^ I hope, by the sincerity of 
your heart, and the good principles of your edu- 
cation, and, above all, by the gracious assistance 
of God's holy spirit, become completely victo* 
lious in the event; at first, indeed, with some 
pain and ^difficulty, but afterwards with ii>exr? 
pressible joy and satisfaction. I would recom- 
mend to you the writers of our own Church ; at 
least Protestant ones, in preference to those of 
th^ Romish Church. Our own writers being 
educated in a country, where both civil and 
ecclesiastical liberty are enjoyed in great per- 
fection, have a greater freedom of thinking and 
speaking than any others 3 and their piety is, Qf 



[ 118 3 

consequence, more clear from all tincture of 
superstition or enthusiasm. But all churches- 
abound with^r«fC^?*caZ writers, of inestimable value; 
and it is the greatest happiness of the present 
times, sua si bona norint, to have in every library, 
and in every shop, numberless books, which can 
*^ make us wise unto salvation/' Spend one^ 
two, three hours, evenj day^ in this kind of read - 
ing", joined with meditation and prayer ; and 
depend upon it, you will never j:epent it, in life 
or death, here or hereafter. If you be " wise 
*' unto salvation/' you will be wise in your pro-, 
fession, and in all temporal affairs; you will be 
diligent, upright, obliging, and polite; you will 
gain the love and esteem of all with whom you 
have intercourse, and receive the hundred-fold 
in this life, which Christ has promised to his 
true followers, *^ Seek ye the kingdom of God, 
^' and his righteousness, and all things shall be 
*^ added unto you/* 

The same reasons which enforce the constant 
reading of cjood books, hold in respect of the 
company of serious and devout persons. Every 
man must, and w ill be, like the company he 
keeps ; and as it is the most favourable sign of 
bappiness and success in this life, for young 
persons to associate with, and delight in, those 
who are older and wiser than themselves; so bad 
Cpmpapy is a sure mark, as wdi as means, of 



[ 119 ] 

misery and ruin. It is infectious in the greatest 
degree, by secret as well as by open ways ; and 
all attempts, which a man seems to himself to 
make, to preserve his innocence, are vain and 
delusive. 

Remember what Sydenham says, " that he 
** Tvasahiays the worse for his acquaintance with 
" had men, though they did him no direct injury. ^^ 
In like manner, avoid all books, which have either 
direct or indirect tendency to corrupt your mind, 
or to make you love, or not fear, your three great 
enemies, — tlie world, the flesh, and the Devil, 

I might proceed to the several duties of life 
but rather choose to forbear, and confine myself 
to this earnest recommendation of the duties of 
prayer and religious reading. If you comply 
with my precepts concerning reading, you will 
be furnished with all the rules and motives to a 
holy life, in a much better manner than it is in 
my power to give them ; and if you pray with 
faith and earnestness^ " God will work in you 
** both to will and to do." If, on the other 
hand, you neglect prayer and religious reading, 
you will perish miserably, here and hereafter. If 
you halt between the two, your life will be che- 
quered by hopes and fears, by joys and sorrows 
as mine has been, and as that of the generality 
of the world is, till you come to die, either peni- 
tent, through the goodness of God, in sending 



t 120 ] 

you afflictions, and blessing them to you ; or 
impenitent, through the hardness and stupidity 
of your heart. It pleases God to give me 
greater peace and hope, than I have ever yet 
enjoyed ; and I am resolved, by his grace, to serve 
Him with an upright heart, for the short re- 
mainder of my days. My great concern is, that 
I may meet your mother, yourself, your brother, 
and your sister, in that state where there shall b@ 
no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor pain; 
and I trust in GoD, that He will grant me this 
great blessing. But I have a true and tender 
concern for your temporal welfare also; and 
though I restrained my discourse to spiritual 
things alone, yet I shall never cease to promote 
your happiness in this world, by my prayers and 
piost earnest endeavours ; being, my dear child^ 

Your's, most ajffectionately, 

D. HARTLEY. 



C 121 1 



HERMAN ANDREW PISTORIUS, 



H. A. PisTORius, to whom the following letter is 
addressed, ranked high, in the North of Europe, as a 
scholar and divine. He was rector of Posnitz, in the 
island of Auger; and, in the year 1772, published, in 
German, a great part of Hartley's Observations on Man, 
with notes on, and additions, to the same. This was 
printed at Rostock and Leipsic, translated into English, 
and prefixed to the third octavo volume of the third 
edition of Dr. Hartley's work, printed in London 1801. 
M. Pistorius's observations evince great acuteness of 
mind; considerable powers of reasoning ; a profound 
knowledge of metaphysics ; a singular liberality of sen- 
timent ; and expansiveness of benevolence. In his 
preface^ he has given us the following sketch of his 
design, in the work he had undertaken. '^ I found, 
*' that, of the two volumes of Dr. Hartley's work in 
" English, (the first of which contains a complete phy- 
" siological and psychological system,) the second only 
'^ was properly fit for my purpose: this contains na- 
" tural religion ; a demonstration of Christianity, its 
*' moral doctrines; a short exhibition of the doctrinesof 
/' faith ; and finally, a treatise on the expectations of 
** man. I therefore contented myself with giving a 
*' short, though superficial, abstract of the first volume, 
** which contains the association of ideas; but the 
•■' second I have thought it necessary to divide into two, 
?' and amplify it with my own observations," 



[ 122 ] 

LETTER XXXII. 
To Herman Andrew Pjstorius. 

SIR, Mayy 1770. 

A Desire to comply with your request, and 
-^^ to illustrate my friend Dr. Hartley's 
reasoning-, as far as I am able, has emboldened 
me to undertake a task, I am but too sensible I 
am imequal to. However, I will do the best I 
can, with cheerfulness; and if I shall be so lucky 
as to shew his method of reasoning in a clear 
light to you, I shall think myself very happy. 
If I shall not succed, the time you will spend in 
reading this, and I in writing it, will be thrown 
away, innocently at least. 

Dr. Hartley supposeth, then, that children, 
at their first entrance into life, are susceptible of 
mere bodily, or, as he calls them, ^ew^f^/e pleasures 
and pains only; and that they are aifected with 
these by the impression or action of external 
objects on their nervous system : that these 
impressions leave their respective ti*aces or ideass 
behind them; which original impressions, or 
their ideas, by being frequently connected and 
associated, as they grow up, with various other 
impressions, productive of neither pleasure nor 
pain, generate in us, by degrees, pleasures and 



[ 123 ] 

pains of a higher rank, such as those of the 
imagination, ambition, &c. 

All this operation he supposes to be performed 
t)y the simple mechanical laws of motion ; by the 
means of vibrations in the component particles 
of the whole nervous system; and this opinion 
Sir Isaac New ton seems to embrace. But whe- 
ther true or not, or by what other means this 
operation maybe performed, is not at all material 
to the consequences he draws from it. The law 
of association may universally take place, by 
what method soever it may please the Supreme 
Being" to bring" it about. 

From this doctrine of association, thus laid 
down, he proceeds to shew^, that all our pleasures 
and pains, all our affections and passions, all out 
opinions, our assent and dissent to truths of all 
sorts, arise in our minds ; that this alone is suffix 
cient to account for all the phenomena of the 
human understanding. In short, upon this foun- 
dation he builds no less a structure than the 
whole frame of the human mind; which is formed 
and made w^hat it is, in each individual, by the 
previous accidental associations which have been 
connected together in his passage through life to 
the present moment. He shews us, that we really 
are, and by what particular steps we come to 
be, in^ fact, what the common language of the 
world, perhaps inconsiderately, calls us, viz, th<5 



[ 124 ] 

children of prejudice, education, habit, custom, 
&c. ; and that the mind of man, various as it 
seems to be in various particulars, is ultimately 
resolvable into perhaps a few impressions of 
external objects on our senses, variously com- 
bined and connected together. 

This method of reasoning", thus pursued, makes 
us mere machines. He allows it. ** Then," 
say the advocates for free-will, " we are no longer 
** free agents,'* consequently can do no action, 
either of virtue or vice ; consequently can have 
no merit or demerit; and so go on to draw many 
other consequences relating to God's goodness, 
justice, &c, which, they say, necessarily and 
naturally flow from these premises* 

Here, as I apprehend, lies the greatest 
difficulty. But to all this the Doctor (Hartley) 
thus answers, as I undertand him. If, says he, 
by free-will, is meant a povi^er to do, or to omit 
doing, any action whatsoever within our compass, 
according to the determination of our will, (which 
definition most men would allow,) I then allow 
free-will in the most perfect manner that defi- 
nition can admit of. But if by free-will is 
meant a power within ourselves, uncaused by 
any previous motive, or present impression, by 
which we can form, constitute, or create this 
determination of our own will ; 1 then abso^ 
lutely deny there is ^ny such thing residing m 



[ 125 ] 

Its, according to this definition; and this, ftake 
it, is what he means by popular and philosophical 
free-will. He says, every man must feel in 
himself that he has no such power over the de- 
termination of his will. That the will is brought 
into that state of activity, such as to be called the 
wiilmg" of any action, by motives and impression^, 
previous to such determination. That, if this is 
not the case, our free-will must be inconsistent 
with God's prescience ; that, in fact, we should 
be gods ourselves, having a power within our- 
selves of becoming a first efficient cause ; whereas, 
God is, and must be, the only first cause of all 
things. That, in the commoa instances produced 
of proving we have such a free-will, the most 
trifling are always brought, where the motive is 
not of consequence enough to be regarded or 
attended to ; whereas, in matters of moment, we 
always see, and readily allow, the motives which 
induce us to do, or not to do, such actions ; and 
is it reasonable to suppose, w^e have such a free- 
will as is contended for, in the most trifling af- 
fairs of life, and not in those of more importance? 
That, in the common intercourse of mankind, all 
men, whatever their language be, act as if men 
had not such free-will. What would avail the 
giving good education to youth ? What per- 
suasion or argument to the aged, if they were 
possessed of this W'himsical free-will, and were 



t 126 ] 

not reg'ularly acted upon by motives. Why should 
I trust myself alone with you, Sir, and not with 
a cartouche ? but that 1 know you have neither 
of you free-will ; that the consideration of honour, 
right, and religion, will assuredly be motives 
strong enough to prevent you from injuring* me ; ' 
aiid those of interest, malice, or fear, will, as 
assuredly, be motives sufficient to prompt the 
other to rob, or perhaps murder, me. The de- 
nying of free-will in man is, by many, supposed 
to involve us in the great difficulties of making 
Gob the author of evil ; the allowing it, Dr. H. 
says, does not remove it. The origin of evil 
equally remains a difficulty, (perhaps never to 
be cleared up by us,) whether man has, or has 
not, this free-will. That evil, both moral and 
natural, is in the world, is a truth not to be 
contested. And that the Author of us, of na- 
ture, of the universe, should not be the author 
of that, and of every thing else, in whatever 
light we consider things, is as great a diffi- 
culty as any thing we can propose. There is 
no difference in this respect, whether a Being, 
infinitely benevolent to will what is best for his 
creatures; infinitely wise, to know what is best; 
and infinitely powerful, to be able to effect whal; 
is best; creates a being, subject to the impressions 
of external objects, which impressions will con- 
duct him to evil, and which, from his make, he 



[ 127 ] 

must follow ; or whether a created being, endued 
with free-will, which, as God, he must foreknow 
would lead him to the same evil. There is this 
to be said in favour of the mechanical scheme, 
that, if we are really machines, anxiety, pain, 
and all the uneasinesses of body and mind at- 
tendant upon evil actions, must, by our aversion 
to pain, force us at last to such a course of 
actions, as are likely to produce ease, pleasure* 
and peace of mind, if our stay here were long- 
enough ; and who knows how long our proba« 
tionary state may be! A creature endued with 
free-will may, perhaps, never be reclaimed, but 
pushed forward continually towards his own 
misery ; whereas, the mechanist, merely from 
his mechanical make, is precluded from thus 
ruining himself for ever. Which is most worthy 
a good, wise, and powerful God ? Which is 
the preferable state for us his creatures ? If you 
thus reject free-will, it may be asked, what will 
beconie-ef virtue and vice, merit and demerit ? 
To which the Doctor thus answers. If in the 
definition of your complex idea of virtue, merit, 
and words of such import, you include the idea 
of free-will as one of the component parts, an 
ingredient, sine qua non ; you may justly say, 
without free-will, there can be no virtue ; but 
then it becomes a mere identical proposition. 
But, if you define virtue to be a word denoting 



i 128 ] 

every action tending* towards the happiness and 
"Well-being of the oreatioo, or any part of it ; and 
merit, a. word denoting such an intention in the 
actor, without examining how he came by such 
an intention, or why he performs such an action; 
and vice and demerit the contrary, (which is no 
improper definition, no harsh way of straining 
language ;) then the mechanist may properly be 
said to be vicious, or virtuous ; to have merit or 
demerit, to any degree, as the free agent. As 
for rewards and punishments, the true way of 
considering them seems to be this. Pleasure 
and happiness are the constant attendants on, or 
rewards of, virtue; if not absolutely so in this 
life, at least in our whole progress through eter- 
nity; pain and misery, or natural evil, are the 
constant attendants on, or punishments of, vice 
or moral evil, with this remarkable difference, 
that the first, by giving us what our natures are 
desirous of, strengthen and corroborate us in the 
pursuit of virtue; and the last, by bringing to 
ns what our natures are averse to, tend constantly 
to annihilate vice, and so force us, even against 
ourselves, by the mere make of our minds, into 
the road of happiness, where we shall all ulti- 
mately arrive. For to consider punishments 
from God as a revenge for evils committed, 
is surely to have an unworthy idea of Him ; I 
might almost call it blaspliemy. Whereas, if 



C 129 ] 

wwe considei^ them only as corrections leading" us 

%o happiness, we entertain a much more adequate 

idea of his unlimited benevolence. And this is 

really the case in the magistrates and powers of 

this world. 

Having thus given a sort of history of the 
frame of man, and removed, as he supposes, the 
grand objection, with all its consequences; he 
proceeds, in the second place, to examine, from 
his frame, what is the duty of man ; a being, 
desirous of happiness, and averse to pain. The 
obtaining happiness, and avoiding misery, is, 
and ought to be, the chief pursuit of mankind 
here. The impressions made on our senses, by 
external objects, are the inlets to our future 
happiness, and knowledge, by the various as- 
sociations with which they are connected in 
our earliest youth ; but as these affect the 
sensible pleasures only, and we are, and ought 
to be, constantly rising from lower degrees of 
pleasure to higher ; and as the pains attendant 
on the following mere sensual pleasures will drive 
us from them, to seek some others less chequered 
with miseries; the Doctor shews, that these ought 
to be our primary pursuit ; and that the mind of 
the most gross sensualist may rest contented 
with these only ; so he goes on to shew, that 
the pleasuresof imagination, or ambition, cannot 
be our sicmmiim bonum : and concludes, that the 

K 



[ iso ] 

pleasures of benevolence, the moral sense and 
piety, or Thespathy, (as he calls this class of 
pleasures,) may, and ought to be, the end man- 
kind should propose to themselves, if truly w^ise, 
from the frame of their mind : nay, that the 
frame of their minds is such, as to drive them 
necessarily into this mode of thinking at last. If 
mankind were seriously convinced of this truth, 
it would be one great additional motive, or 
weight, added to the machine, to accelerate the 
motion to the point desired. 

But, says he, we have another way to judge of 
our duty, if we believe the scriptures. He then 
enquires what right these books have to be 
thought to reveal the will of the Creator ; and 
sums up, in a short and clear way, the general 
evidences of their genuineness, truth, and inspi- 
ration. And having fully convinced his reader, 
as he supposes, that he ought to believe in them, 
and to trust to them as containing the will of 
God ; he shews that they lead us to the same 
end, and enjoin us the same rule of life, which 
Ihe considerations, from the make of our minds, 
had before pointed out to us, but in a far more j 
conspicuous and exalted manner. j 

This finishes the second part ; and in the j 
third and last, he shews what ought to be our \ 
expectations, by our complying, or not comply- 1 
ing, with this rule of our duty, so laid down. | 



[ 131 ] 

If we pursue a course of benevolent, just, and 
pious actions, the Doctor proves, from the make 
of our minds, we shall enjoy all the content, peace 
of mind, happiness, and pleasure, our natures are 
capable of; and all this is promised us, here and 
hereafter, by the revealed will of God in the 
scriptures. But, if we should take another turn, 
M what will be the case then ? In that case, says 
■ the Doctor, let us remember that pain and 
' misery are the concomitants of vice ; and the 
aversion to these will, at last, by the force of our 
f i mechanical make, quite overcome this proneness 
J ■ in us to evil ; and we shall, by degrees, be spiri- 
' i tualized, and rendered worthy partakers of the 
1 happiness designed for his creatures by the Lord 
ilj of the universe. If, by many unhappy wrong 
• associations, some shall be rendered so obsti- 
', I tiate as to endure many and grievous afflictions, 
1, i before they are prevailed upon to turn their backs 
1 iipnn evil, hard is the case of such ; but so it is, 
I if they break a leg, or live a long life of pain, 
i occasioned, perhaps, by the vices of their an- 
1 cestors : But this happens every day, without its 
1 being ever considered in the same light ; and 
I'that we should be shocked at supposing, that 
I mankind should suffer pain for the actions of 
BTl others, which, it must be allowed, are at least as 
nmch out of their power, can be owing to no- 
thing but prejudice, or, in other language^ to 



/ 



9 



[ 132 ] 

prior associations* But will you say, then, that 
the most wicked shall at last be happy ? Most 
certainly, replies the Doctor, but not till they 
have returned from their wickedness : and, 
indeedj this is the corner-stone that supports the 
whole fabric. For there might be some plea of 
justice in arraigning the ways of the Ai^mighty, 
if mankind should for ever suffer for action^ 
which they are compelled to at the time; and 
which, if this doctrine be true, they would do 
again and again a thousand times, all other pre- 
vious circumstances remaining exactly the same. 
In defence of this opinion, the Doctor says, if 
is inconsistent with infinite justice to punish 
finite crimes infinitely and eternally : it is in- 
consistent with infinite benevolence, power, and 
knowledge, to create poor groveling beings 
as we are, compared to Him, to undergo eternal 
torments : and if you can prove that any one 
man can be saved, from that one it will be easy 
to prove, that every individual shall. For in- 
stance, let us suppose the best man that ever 
lived 10 be represented by A, and the worst by 
Z; and all the intermediate letters of the alphabet 
to denote all the intermediate degrees of virtuous 
and vicious men. Then will the Doctor say, B*. 
is so near in degree to A, and C to B, and so 
on, that you can never stop, till you go through 
the whole of mankind. For divide where yotJ 



[ 133 3 

will, as, for example, at M, or N, the degrees 
of virtue in M, and vice in N, can never be so 
great, as for the Ai^mighty, to make M eternally 
happy, and N miserable eternally. And to 
close all, the Doctor attempts to prove, that this 
is the language of scripture from end to end : 
that it is full of most glorious promises and pro- 
phecies ; that it threatens, indeed, and threatens 
greatl}' ; but this is our comfort,— we shall suffer 
no more than we can bear, no more than is ne- 
cessary to make us happy, completely happy : 
if a little will suffice, we shall have but little ; if 
much is wanting, God will give us what is 
wanting to make us completely happy, and not 
a jot more. He brings a great number of texts 
and types, to shew, that the restoration of all 
mankind is plainly promised us in the scriptures, 
but that much pains is necessary to bring this 
about ; and adds this observation, that man, as 
well as God, is bound to perform his promises ; 
but that neither justice, nor mercy, require either 
of them to perform their threats. The last, in- 
deed, one may sa}^, forbids it; and this is God's 
great characteristic, by which He has made 
Himself known, viz. that he is a merciful God. 
Now let us review this scheme, and see whe- 
ther man has reason to complain that he is made 
not a free, but a necessary agent. God, the 
author of nature, has formed an universe full of 



[ J34 ] 

harmonVj full of beauty. To contemplate and 
enjoy this, he has created man, a being capable 
of receiving pleasure, and suffering pain, from 
the impressions of external objects all around 
him. The nature of pain and pleasure is such 
as to make him eagerly desire and pursue the 
one, loath and avoid the other. He has so framed 
the mind of man, that from the pleasures and 
pains received from these impressions, he should 
be led on to seek such things as he has expe- 
rienced to give him former pleasure. These, 
being daily united with other impressions, aug- 
ment his sources of pleasures, and he is impelled 
to search for new ones. If, by unhappy unions, 
he finds himself mistaken, and, instead of plea- 
sure, he experiences pain ; this, by repeated trials, 
will turn him aside; and he will, from the nature 
and frame of his mind, be led to such actions as, 
he finds, will not disappoint him. Happiness is 
the lot designed by God for all his creatures. As 
far as one man's happiness coincides with the 
happiness of the whole, so far will pleasure fol- 
low his steps; when they obstruct it, pain will 
obstruct him from destroying the happiness of 
others, and in the end, consequently, his own. So, 
if this be the true history of man, it is not in the 
power of one of God's creatures essentially to 
obstruct the happiness of any one of the work of 
Jhis hands, not even his own. Ought we to repine 



f 133 ] 

at this ? Is it not a great and glorious scheme, 
worthy the benevolent Author of nature ! Well 
may we say, how great and wonderfully are 
we made ! 

I have jiow, Sir, to the best of my abilities, 
and as far as I understand the Doctor's book, 
given you the design and drift of his plan, and 
his manner of reasoning, as I conceive and re- 
member it ; for I have purposely avoided having 
recourse to the work, whilst I was writing this, 
I thought I understood him, and j^lainly per- 
ceived the connection of his chain of reasoning; 
therefore I chose to set down my thoughts as the 
work itself, and his frequent conversations on 
these subjects, suggested them to me at different 
times; imagining I might express my own thoughts 
in a more explicit and free manner, than if I 
wrote it directly from the book itself. 

I have undoubtedly omitted many of his 
arguments, perhaps some of the most cogent ; 
and 'tis not impossible, that I may have intro- 
duced some that are not his, but such as my 
conception of the thing supplied me with. This 
I know for certain, that all the light I have in 
this matter, I have received from him. I am 
sure I cannot have done him justice in any re- 
spect ; but in friendship to a man I have such a 
regard for, I beg leave to mention one difficulty 
be is under, which is in regard to his language. 



[ 136 ] 

From his scheme, it appears, he must necessarily 
make use of some abstract words, such as virtue, 
merit, reward, &c. &c. in a sense of his own : 
this may make him sometimes obscure ; but what 
could he do ? He must either use such languac^e 
as the world does, or coin new ; and he chose the 
first, as liable to less objection, upon the whole. 
If I have given you any satisfaction, I shall think 
my time well spent ; for I am, with a true re^ 
gard, Sir, 

Your most obedient, humble servant. 



[ 137 ] 

LETTER XXXIII. 
^romjDr. Franklin ^o David Hartley, Esq, 

MY DEAR FRIEND, Oct, 26, 1778. 

IT Received yours, without date, containing an 
-■-old Scotch sonnet, full of natural sentiment, 
and beautiful simplicity. I cannot make an 
entire application of it to present circumstances ; 
but|taking it in parts, and changing persons, some 
of it is extremely apropos, First, Jennie may 
be supposed Old England ; and Jamie, America, 
Jennie laments the loss of Jamie, and recollects 
with pain his love for her ; his industry in busi- 
ness to promote her wealth and welfare, and her 
own ingratitude. 

Young Jamie lov'd me weel. 

And sought me for his bride. 
But saving ane crown. 

He had naithing beside. 
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie ganged to sea^ 
And the crown and t|ie pound were all for me. 

Her grief for this separation is expressed very 
pathetically. 

The ship was a wrecl^. 

Why did na Jennie die i^ 
O why was I spar'd 

To cry, w^e is me ! 



[ 138 ] 

There is no doubt that honest Jamie had still 
so much love for her as to pity her in his heart, 
though he might, at the same time, be not a little 
angry with her. 

Towards the conclusion, we must change the 
perons ; and let Jamie be Old England ; Jennie, 
America. Then honest Jennie, having made a 
treaty of marriage with Gray, expresses her 
firm resolution of fidelity, in a manner that does 
honour to her good sense, and her virtue. 

I may not think of Jamie, for that would be a sin. 
But I maun do my best, 

A gude wife to be j 
For auld Robin Gray 

Is very kind to me. 

You ask my sentiments of a truce for five or 
iseven years, in which no mention should be made 
of that stumbling-block to England, the inde*- 
pendence of America. 

I must tell you, fairly and frankly, that there 
can be no treaty of peace with us, in w^hich 
France is not included. But I think a treaty 
might be made between the three powers, in 
which England expressly renouncing the de- 
pendence of America seems no more necessary, 
than her renouncing the title of King of France, 
which has always been claimed for her kings. 
Yet, perhaps, it would be better for England to 
act nobly and generously on the occasion, by 



[ 139 ] 

granting" more than she could, at present, be 
compelled to grant : — make America easy on 
the score of old claims; cede all that remains 
in North-America; and thus conciliate and 
strengthen a young power, which she wishes to 
have a future and serviceable friend. I do not 
think England would be a loser by such cession. 
She may hold her remaining possessions there, 
but not without a vast expense ; and they w^ould 
be the occasion of constant jealousies, frequent 
quarrels, and renewed wars. The United States, 
continually growing stronger, will naturally have 
them at last; and, by the generous conduct 
above hinted at, all the intermediate loss of blood 
and treasure might be spared ; and solid, lasting 
peace promoted. This seems to me good counsel, 
but I know it can't be followed. 

The friend you mention must always bs wel- 
come to me, with or without the cheeses ; but I 
do not see how his coming hither could be of 
any use at present, unless, in the quality of a 
plenipotentiary, to treat of a sincere peace be- 
tween all parties. 

Your Commissioners are acting very indis- 
creetly in America. They first spoke disrespect- 
fully of our good ally. They have since called 
in question the power of Congress to treat with 
them ; and have endeavoured to begin a dispute 
about the detention of Burgoyne's troops, an 



affair which I conceived not to be within their 
commission. They are vainly trying", by pub- 
lications, to excite the people ag-ainst the Con- 
gress. Governor J — has been attempting to 
bribe the -members ; and, without the least regard 
to truth, has asserted three propositions, which, 
he says, he will undertake to prove. The two 
first of them 1 know to be false, and I believe thei 
third to be so. The Congress have refused to 
treat with the Commissioners, while he continues 
one of them, and he has therefore resigned. 

These gentlemen do not appear well qualified 
for their. business. I think they wiii never heal 
tthe breach, but they may wirfen it. 

I am, my very dear friend, 

Tour's most affectionately. 



[ 141 ] 



THE REV. WILLIAM GILPIN. 



Few English writers of the eighteenth century have 
gratified the public with such a variety of interesting 
publications as the late Rev. Willtam Gilpin ; and of 
fewer still can it be said, what may be truly asserted 
of him, that he adorned every subject on which he 
wrote. In the various departments of biography, divi- 
nity, didactic composition^ scriptural criticism, and the 
principles of the picturesque, he has displayed the power 
of the master; the piety of the Christian; and the 
sensibility of the man of taste. As an amateur artist 
in drawing, he was original in composition, and spirited 
in execution; and, like Longinus, exemplified, in his 
own productions, those admirable principles which he 
laid down for the perfection of the ait on which he 
wrote. The first publication of Mr. Gilpin, which en- 
gaged public attention, was — Biographical Sketches ot 
his great ancestor Bernard Gilpin, and other reformers. 
These were followed, at difterent times, by admirable 
Lectures on the Church Catechism 5 an Exposition of 
the New Testament, w^ith notes highly useful, and-, in 
many instances, singularly ingenious and original ; Ob- 
servations relative chiefly to Picturesque Beauty, in 
several tow^ns through England and Scotland ; Sermons 
lo a Country Congregation, in 2 vols.; Moral Contrasts; 
Amusements for Clergymen ; Forest Scenery, in a pic- 
turesque Account of the New Forest; and a beautiful 
Series of Dialogues, published as a posthumous work. 



[ 142 ] 

But however sp^^ndid as a writer, Mr. Gilpin*s chief 
clahn to the admiration of his cotemporaries, and the 
imitation of posterity, arose from the excellencies of his 
professional^ and the virtues of his private, character. 
After having obtained a moderate competency, by 
fulfilling, for many years, most conscientiously, the 
important duties of the master of Cheam School; and 
being further assisted in his income by the small vicarage 
of Boldre, Hants, presented to him by his accomplished 
scholar, Col. Mitford ; he retired into the country, and 
settled himself on his living for life. Here it was that 
Mr. Gilpin's character appeared in the most venerable 
and attractive point of view. To the inhabitants of a 
wide and wild parish on the borders of the New Forest, 
most of whom were in the humble ranks of life, he was 
at once the instructor, and the example ; the pastor, 
the friend, and the father. Reproving the vicious with 
authority, but mildness ; encouraging the worthy with 
a judicious generosity ; instructing the ignorant with 
the most patient condescension ; visiting and relieving 
the sick ; comforting the unhappy ; and affording advice 
and assistance to ail who stood in need of them. Lively 
in his conversation ; cheerful in his manners; and with 
a countenance beaming benevolence and peace, he ^ 
evinced, that the most ardent piety was compatible with 
innocent gaiety, and that true religion is ever the 
parent of joy and tranquillity. Moderate, rational, 
and liberal, in his theological principles, he lost no 
friend by petulant dogmatism, and made no enemies 
by imchristian intolerance. Piety, in whomsoever it 
appeared, commanded his respect; it was only presump- 
tuous vice that excited his indignation'. He, lived till 
the age of 80, beloved and reverenced by those who 
knew him best; admired and esteemed by those to 
whom he was only known by his character and writings; 



[ 143 } 

and closed his upright, useful, and exemplary life on 
the 5th April, 1804. 

He was buried in Boldre church-yard, where the 
following memorial of him, written b}'^ himself, is in- 
scribed, on a stone that marks the place of his grave : 

" In a quiet mansion, beneath this stone, secured 
*' from the afflictions^ and still more dangerous en- 
"joyments, of life, lie the remains of William 
'^ Gilpin, some time vicar of this parish; together 
" with the remains of Margaret his wife. After 
** living above fifty years in happy union, they hope 
** to be raised, in God's due time, (through the atone- 
** ment of a blessed Redeemer for their repented 
" transgressions,) to a state of joyful immortality. Here 
** it will be a new joy, to see several of their good neigh- 
" hours, who now lie scattered in these sacred precincts 
*' around thein. 

" He died April 5th, 1804, at the age of 80. She 
'•' died July 14tb, 1807, at the age of 32.'* 



LETTER XXXIV. 

From the Rev, William Gilpin to 
3Irs, M. Hartley. 

Vicar's Hill, Jan, 31, 1791. 

DEAR MADAM, 

^T'OUR speedy and friendly answer merits 
-^ my thanks; especially as you wrote at a 
time when your heart was full, and not in unison 
with any little pleasantries, which might, pro- 
bably, have been the subject of my letter. 



t 144 ] 

I was not acquainted with the friend you have 
lost; yet I knew more of her, than I do of most 
people of whom I know so little. I have often 
heard of her, from a Curate of mine, a very 
ingenious young man, who went from me to be 
a tutor in her family. That family will, I fear, 
have a great loss of their good mother. 

I do not know, my ddar Madam, that I ever 
opposed your favourite opinion. I think it by 
far the most probable, that we shall all meet to- 
gether hereafter ; though whether we shall form 
out' friendships hereafter, exactly as we form 
them here, is, I think, a matter of some doubt. 
Here we love one another, and often contract, 
our friendships, for the sake of elegant manners, 
natural affections, pleasing humours, good sense, 
knowledge, and a variety of other endowments 
and acquirements. Hereafter, I apprehend^ 
these things will appear to little advantage, where 
accounts are to be settled by different degrees of 
Christian perfection. 

Now, it may happen, that in those accom- 
plishments, (if I may so speak,) of humility, 
charity, a forgiving temper, and the like, which 
alone pass current hereafter, we may be above, 
or below, our late earthly friends; and will, 
therefore, be no more suited to form friendships 
"with them, than an ignorant peasant is with a 
philpsopher. But how^ever these things may be 



C 145 1 

€)i*derecl hereafter, we may all make ourselves 
very easy in the reflection, that all will be ordered 
in such a way, as most undoubtedly to promote 
our best happiness. 

I am extremely glad, you like my Exposition 
of the New Testament ; and I had rather have 
your approbation, than that of half the learned 
critics in the kingdom. I remember, I affronted 
you once, by telling you I wrote foi* such readers 
as you, though 1 meant it as a very sincere com- 
pliment ; and in continuation of that compliments^ 
I most earnestly beg of you, that, when you look 
it over again, you will do it with a pen in your 
hand. I value your criticisms very much ; for 
I look upon them as the criticisms of a sound, 
well-informed understanding, but devoid of those 
prejudices, which critics by profession are too 
apt to adopt. What you say of the last verse 
of the fourth chapter of Revelations, I perfectly 
agree with; and in my copy I have altered the 
passage, as it is in the original. " For thy 
^'pleasure tliey are, and were created, ^^ But in 
one point I rather differ from you. You wish 
I had left the sacred writers more in possession 
of their bold figurative expressions ; and had 
been more full in my explanations. With regard 
to the first, as I have just been telling a very 
i^ensible man, (unknown, though, to me,) who 
wrote to me on that subject out of Warwick- 

I. 



C 146 ] 

shire, I cannot see how the harmony of cohi- 
position would have allowed me to do otherwise. 
You are still in possession of these bold figurative 
expressions : I admire them with you, but I do 
X; not pretend to vie with them. If I modernize 
one part, and not another, I fear I should pro- 
duce rather a disagreeable mode of composition. 
These bold flights, which are of a piece with 
the original scriptures, would agree ill, I fear, 
with the coldness of modern language. As to 
your exceptions to my conciseness, I hope they 
will vanish, if you will read attentively my titler 
page, which sets forth, that I mean chiefly to con- 
vey, as far as I can, the leading sense, and connec- 
tion. What you were pleased with in the preface 
to the Acts of the Apostles, I do not know that 
I met with amy where. When I beg the use of 
your critical pen, you will understand, I meaa 
only the pen of your leisure : when you do mak^ 
remarks, either with regard to the connection, or 
the sense, all I beg is, that you would put thqm 
on paper. As my design in attending to the 
leadincf sense chiefly does not seem to be gene- 
Tally taken up, I shall, in another edition, say 
something more on the subject. 

Mrs. G. joins in best respects with, deat 
Madam, your very sincere 

W. GILPIN. 



t 147 ] 



LETTER XXXV. 

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. 



iHv Vicar's Hill, Aug, (5, 1793. 

IH I Wish, dear Madam, it were in my 

power to administer any comfort to feelings like 
yours. I hope, however, as one of your brothers 
is in a recovered state, you will have the satis- 
faction soon to find the other so to. But as 
God, often for his owu reasons, takes the wis© 
and the good out of the world, before the com- 
mon course of nature would probably remove 
them, if we could only persuade ourselves that 
God Almighty knows better than we do what 
is right, we should possess the true secret of 
bearing affliction. One should thitik there were 
no great difficulty in bringing ourselves to 

ji this conclusion; nor is there in theory; but 
' practice, wayward practice, makes the obstacle: 
and yet, perhaps, the philosophy of the Gospel 
does not require so strict an obedience to that 
great truth. A greater philosopher than any of 
the Stoic school allows more indulgence, I think, 
to liunian feelinos. We must consider his ex- 
ample as precept : and we are assured, that he 
not only had strong affections; butitisrecord^> 
that, on the death of a friend, ^^ Jestjs tvept^^,- 



[ 148 3 

1 hope, however, dt^r Madam, when I hear 
from you next, (and you will give me, at least, 
a few lines soon,) I shall find that you have had 
Occasion, at this time, neither for the Stoicism 
of Christianity, nor its more indulgent allowances^ 

About politics I shall say nothing, because 
your ideas are precisely mine : so that it would 
only be transcribing a page from your own book. 
1 will only say, that the French clergy at Win- 
chester (where the King's house is fitted up for 
several hundreds of them) behave in the most 
regular, prudent, and frugal manner. I say 
this, because I remember giving you an account, 
in my last, of the improper behaviour of the 
French emigrants at Southampton, - 

Relieve me, dear Madam, 

Your truly, sincere, and most obedient servant, 

WILLIAM GILPIN. 



letteh XXXVI. 

From the Rev. William Gilpin to 
31rs, M. Hartley. 

BEAR MADAM, Vicars Hill, 1794. 

I Never did receive your letter of 
September 3d. I have all your late letters now , 
lying before me, and I have none of that date; 



[ 149 J 

nor do I remember receiving" any letter from 
Cirencester, but your last. 

You and 1 think "perfectly alike about Me- 
thodists. We object onl}' to the bad tendency of 
s,ome of their opinions; but leave them willingly 
in possession of their flights of enthusiasm. It 
appears to me, that by the merciful providence 
of God, the g-ospel has two great modes of access 
to the human heart; both, perhaps, conducive 
to the same good end. The one is thr-pugh the 
channel of the imagination j the other, through 
that of reason. The former is more adapted to 
the ignorant and unenlightened part of mankind, 
who cannot reason, nor see the force of evidence. 
The Methodists all seem inclined to this mode 
of iiddress : they apply to the imagination, and 
endeavour to inspire enthusiastic fervours, which 
may be very conducive, I don't doubt, to incite 
piety and devotion ; but, if 72J>e grant that this 
mode of application may be of use to the igno- 
rant and uninformed, the sectary, on Jiis part, 
should grant, that it is not adapted to general 
use. To convince the learned infidel, you must 
not open upon him with the absolute necessity 
of faith, till you have convinced him of the 
foundation of that faith ; nor tell him affecting 
stories of the sufferings of Christ, till he is 
satisfied of the reality of those sufferings. Again 
where w^orldly prejudices, and refined modes of 



[ 150 ] 

immorality, have mixed themselves with Christ-, 
ian doctrines, some learninor- is necessarv to dis- 
entangle all the maze of error ; and if the 
enthusiastic preacher call this worldly wisdom, 
I shall be apt to call him uncandid. 

You must not expect me, dear madam, to wish 
you " a merry Chriatmas,'^ I never use that old, 
jovial wish of our ancestors : it sounds riotous 
in my ears. Nor shall I wish yon " the compli-^ 
^' meiits of the season/' which is only the same 
thing' in the dress of modern refinement. But 
if you will be content with my wishing you, in 
plain English, every happiness that is consistent 
with this world, and may be hoped for in th^ 
ixexi', I wish it with great cordiality. 

Tour's sincerely, 

WILLIAM GILPIN. 

LETTER XXXVri. 

From the Rev, William Gilpin to 
Mrs, M. Hartley. 

Vicars Hill, Sept. 15, 1795. 

INDEED, my dear Madam, you need 
make no apology for ''* troubling me with so 
** much family history." You could not enter- 
tain me more. There is no kind ct reading I 
take more plea^u'e in, than the lives and ane^c- 



i 151 ] 

dotes of good people : and though I was not 
acquainted with the particulars of your father's 
life, as I had never seen the second edition of 
his work, yet I knew enough of him, to conceive 
him to have been a most respectable character. 
I think 1 told you in what high respect hi» 
writings were held by one of my intimate friends> 
wlio was amongst the acutest reasoners, and the 
best men, I ever knew. I wish you w^ould give 
me a catalogue of every thing your father wrote, 
and the date of their first publication. I do not 
think he wrote much, besides his chief work ; 
but I should be glad to hear from you. My 
acquaintance with a worthy clergyman, Mr, 
Green, of Harding-ham, in Norfolk, was the oc- 
casion of my troubling you, at this time, with my wff 
enquiries about your father. I dare say 1 have 
mentioned this gentleman to you in some of my 
letters, I was never personally acquainted with 
him: but when I first printed my Exposition 
of the New Testament, he wrote me a very 
friendly letter, informing me, that ever since he 
Tiad seen the Epistle to Philemon modernized, 
in the Christian Hero, by Sir Richard Steele, 
he had wished to see the whole Testament ex- 
pounded in something of the same familiar 
manner, and that mine had entirely met his 
approbation. And then, to evince his sincerity,* 
he mentioned to me two or three passages, which 



[ 152 ] 

he thouglit mi^ht be improved. As F received 
these corrections candidly, and wished for further 
remarks, he read the book critically ; and, from 
time to time, gave me several other remarks, 
almost all of which I adopted. This critical 
correspondence, on scriptural subjects of different 
kinds, continued till his death, which happened 
at the end of the last year. After his death, his 
executors, or one of his friends, made me a pre- 
sent of his works, which were out of print ; and, 
at my desire, gave me a few particulars of his 
life, with which I w as totally unacquainted. His 
works consist of translations, from the original 
Hebrew, (for he was esteemed among our be^t 
Hebrew scholars,) of the Psalms,, and other 
poetical parts of scripture; and I cannot but 
think, he gave the first hjiit lo the Bishop of 
London, Dr. Blaney, and the present Primate 
of Ireland, who followed, with translations of 
different parts of the Bible, in the manner of 
Mr. Greep. Mr, Green's Psalms were published 
sixteen years before Bishop Lowth published his 
Jsaiah, which was the first of these biblical works 
I have mentioned. With regard to the partis 
culars of his life, which were sent me, I find he 
had contracted an early acquaintance mih Dr. 
Hartley, and that the Doctor's particular regard 
for him continued all his life, at Bath, and 
pther places, where the Doctor resided ; but fram 



[ 153 ] 

their mutual employments they seldom met. ,1 
conceived, at first, it must have been some other 
Dr. Hartleys but you have convinced me it 
could be only your father. I suppose you do 
not remember his ever meeting with Mr. Green 
at Bath, or elsewhere ? or hearing- your fathe*^ 
&;peak of him ? 

I have made an acquaintance lately with a 
gentleman, with whom, I believe, you are ac- 
quainted, Sir G. B. My brother brought him 
here, and they staid with me the best part of a 
week. Sir G. is a very pleasing man ; and, I 
think, deeper in the science of painting than 
almost any man I know. 

I am not acquainted with the school you 
mention, but I hear it well spoken of. A young 
beir in my parish, Mr. — , is just sent to it. 

Tour's, very sincerely, 

W. G. 



LETTER XXXVIII. 

To the Rev. William Gilpin, /?0Me 
Mrs, M. Hartley. 

DEAR stR, Feb, 18. 

I am much pleased to find that you 
took my letter kindly, and that you say it gave 



[ 154 ] 

ycJU pleasure ; t\'hich I wished it should, though 
I was almost afraid to write, lest I should occasion 
your suffering any fatigue in answering me. 

Now that I write again, I must begin with 
telling you, that I only wish you to read my 
letter, and to give it a friendly smile. I know 
well, that, in illness, it is often too great an 
exertion to attempt any more. 

You say truly, that none of us can act up to 
our sentiments. Imperfect creatures as we are, 
and in a world of imperfections, it cannot be 
otherwise. But we have a kind Master, or 
rather a tender Father, who will look with a 
lenient eye on the failings of those who honestly 
endeavour to do well. 

It is not my business to compliment you, that 
is not the office of a friend; but I can have no 
doubt, that your own heart gives you comfort 
and support. 

I am not surprized, that, at the time when you 
had, as you say, " a near prospect of eternity, 
'* you should think of nothing else." I was once 
in the same situation myself; but when life 
returns, the thoughts of the mind must, unavoid- 
ably, return to the visible objects of the world in 
which we live; and if they did not, we could 
not go on to accomplish those duties which yet 
remain. I rejoice sincerely, '^ that it has pleased 
♦* God to put you again into a state of exist- 



I 15.3 ] 

*' ence;'' and that yon are ^^ able again to laiigft, 
*' and joke, and talk, about Lord Nelson, &c.; 
" in short, that yon are become an inhabitant of 
'^ this world, as you was before/' This is a 
very comfortable hearing to your friends ; and 
1 dare say, there is no reason to fear, that your 
worldly ideas will not be completely *' kept 
** within proper bounds." Those which relate 
to the improvement of mankind, are ideas which 
relate to both worlds ; and, I am sure, you must 
feel great comfort in thinking, that your parish, 
and your school, may one day, by your assistance, 
obtain everlasting happiness. 

I do not remember that you ever before sent 
me " The short Explanation, ^c. for the Boldi^e 
** School f but I am much pleased to receive it; 
and I think it most judiciously adapted to the 
purpose. I am pleased to see every practical 
duty clearly explained, while every abstruse and 
contested point is cautiously avoided. The little 
references that you make to natural history, and 
the growth of plants, the formation of animals, 
the influence of the sun, &c. and your Explana^ 
lion of the Omnipresence of Gob, are certainly 
useful, in teaching the children to think, and yet 
are exemplified in so simple a way, that they 
cannot mislead. Yet I never read a book of 
question and answer in my life, where it did not 
appear to me, that such questions were asked. 



[ 156 ] 

'^'hich it wag convenient to answer; and that' 
perhaps, an acute and intelligent child might 
happen to ask a few more, which might happen, 
also, to embarrass the instructor. 

The account of your Poor-Jiouse you had sent 
me before. I had been much pleased with the 
management of it, and the characters of the 
managers, Mr. and Mrs. S. Our worthy friend 
Mrs. — is here. We often meet, and we often 
talk of you, and your family. She knew your 
father and mother well; and says, that your 
mother was a very amiable and valuable woman, 
and (as you say) a woman of real sentiment ; 
that your father was a manof excellent temper, 
and of the most gentleman-like character and 
manners that she ever knew. I read to her those 
charming letters you have been so good to com- 
municate to me. With that of your mother, she 
was as much pleased as I am ; but with that of 
your father, upon her death, she was affected, 
even to tears. Miss B. w^is here with her last 
night ; and after having talked a great deal about 
you, I ventured to read those two letters again 
before her ; for I knew she had taste enough to 
be worthy of them, and she ivas worthy. I then 
read her the long history of Scaleby Castle 
which you gave me in August 1787 ; and after 
that, as the conclusion of the feast, your his- 
tory of the present desolated state of that ruin! 



[ 157 ] 

She was extremely delighted with that ver^r 
picturesque account of the vaulted hall, now 
inhabited at each end by aM'retched family, &c. 
This description always delighted me; it is such 
perfect painting,that every image appears before 
the eye. Miss B. enjoyed it so much, that I 
read it to her twice : but she took notice that 
your little note (that you was born and bred 
there) must be as unintelligible to every reader, 
as it was to me. No one could conceive, that you 
w^ere the son of either of those two wretched 
families ; therefore the imagination must form 
to itself some w^onderful and romantic event, 
which must have compelled your mother to take 
shelter, in such a situation, at the house where 
you was born. But still the imagination must 
go farther on, to supply more invention for the 
cause of your being bred up there ; and I do not 
see how that could be managed, unless we sup- 
pose your mother to have been still confined 
there by some wicked fairy, or some cruel giai;it, 
like a princess in a iairy tale. Mr. — and 
Miss — say, that, when the next edition corned 
out, you ought to insert, as a note, that very 
letter in which you have given the history of 
your own family. I don't know whether I should 
advise your doing this yourself; but I shall pre- 
serve the letter; and some time or other, when you 
and I are both dead and gone, it may, perhapf. 



t 158 ] 

get into a biographical history of you, written 
by Boswell the Second. 

Your's, dear Sir, very truly, 

M. TT. 



LETTEK XXXYHI. 

To the Rev. William Gilpin, /rom 
Mrs, M. Hartley. 

BEAU SIR, Belvedere, 1799. 

A Communication through the atmos- 
phere, without the medium of pen and paper, 
would, indeed, be a delightful privilege. Had 
such a communication beea in my power, I 
should have conveyed my thoughts to you as soon 
as I became acquainted with yours ; but such 
powers are not allowed to mortal beings. 

It seems not unlikely that beatified spirits will 
have some mode of communication, far more 
facile than we have any idea of. It is true, that 
we are informed of no particulars concerning 
our future state ; but we are, in general, assured, 
that to those who shall be accepted, no happiness 
shall be wanting ; and as we know that our 
dispositions are to be improved into perfect love 
and harmony, in society with innumerable multi» 



C 159 ] 

tudes of " just men made perfect ;" I see no 
harm in amusing ourselves with ideas of such 
blessed communic?itionSj as you allude to. All 
benevolent ideas improve the mind; and while 
we are thinking of social happiness in heaven, 
we shall probably be more disposed to promote 
it upon earth. Your sermons, and the establish- 
ment of your school, are parts of such a plan ; 
and I hope you will see, in Heaven, those w^houi 
you have endeavoured to conduct thither; though 
I cannot help wishing, that your dismission may 
be still deferred, as long as this life can be made 
easy and comfortable to you. - 

I have been looking back at your old letters, 
when we first discussed the subject of re-union with 
friends in a future state ; and I must ingenuously 
confess, that I have done injury to your senti- 
ments, in saying, that you seem to think there 
is no foundation for the hope of seeing and know^- 
ing our friends again m a future state. On tha 
contrary, I see, that in those letters you speak 
of it as highly probable, '* that ne shall unites 
f* hereajter with those with whom our souls have 
** been connected here :" but then you thiak that 
I lay more stress upon this enjoyment than it 
deserves. You tell me, that *' we are directed to 
*' look up, not to the virtues of the creature, but 
** to the perfections of the Creator." You say, 
that, *' if we hope to be admitted to the divine 



[ 160 ] 

" presence," from whence we are taOg-ht that all 
our joys are to spring, we cannot iconceive that 
the greatest part of our happiness, or, indeed, 
«W7/ material part of it, shall arise from conversing* 
with creatures, whose brightest virtues are only 
dim emanations. What our admission to the 
divine presence may be, I cannot conceive ; 
neither do I imagine that you (though much 
wiser than I amj can clearly explain ta me; but 
though I must believe, that our knowledge of 
God's perfections, in a future state, will be far 
greater than it can be here, and our love and 
gratitude far more intense; yet, as the distance 
between the great Creator and his creatures is 
infinite, I should imagine, that, in heaven, as well 
as upon earth, (though more perfectly there) we 
shall know Him in great measure by his works : 
while we look up to Him, as the Author of all ^ 
with veneration and adoration, as well as love 
and gratitude, our intimate and familiar com- 
munications will be with those emanations of 
virtue, which have received their source from 
Him. You say, in another letter, that the 
continuation of our earthly attachments is not 
amonof those future considerations which the 
scripture holds out ; and tliis I must^acknowledge 
tp be true; for the scripture gives no particular 
description of those joys, whicli '* eye hath not 
** seen, noi: eai: heard, neither hath it entered 



[ 161 3 

" into the heart of man to conceive." Yet we 
are told, that we are to be associated with " the 
** spirits of just men made perfect;" that " we 
** are not to grieve for our departed friends, as 
'* those would do who have no hope." This 
certainly conveys an idea, that we shall meet 
them again : but I agree with you entirely, that, 
in many cases, it is proba^)le, the attachments of 
this world, and those of the next, may not co- 
incide. You say very truly, that ^^ our attach- 
*' ments here are often formed without sufficient 
*' knowledge; that we know not our own heart, 
" much less the hearts of others ; and that we have 
'* frequently too much reason to repent the hasty 
^' friendships we have contracted." These hasty 
friendships, and all friendships that are not built 
lipon virtue, will certainly be dissolved. Taste, 
genius, congenial manners, habits, and associa- 
tions, and even union in the pursuit of knowledge, 
in a world where all the knowledge that can be 
acquired here shall vanish away, where the phi- 
losopher and the peasant shall be upon a level, 
'will not be a sufficient foundation for the friend- 
ships of eternity. But gratitude surely will! 
'And though you tell me, that T may possibly 
^contract a friendship with an Ethiopian, or an 
Asiatic, of whom I know nothing in this world, 
1 think it more natural to conceive, that the first 
affections of my mind will turn towards those 

M 



[ 162 ] 

from whom I have received the most serious and 
the most virtuous obligations here ; towards those, 
whose advice and example directed my youth ; 
and towards those, who, in the course of my life, 
have confirmed every principle of virtue in my 
mind, from the bright pre-eminence of theirs. 
In any instance where I have loved without 
judgment, and have not found real virtue, though 
I thought I had, I cannot expect that my mis- 
taken friendship will be revived, till the objects 
of it become as sincere and worthy as I had 
thought them. According to — * idea, this 
time wiW finally come to every one ; and the whole 
creation will be, in some future day, a family of 
love and union. In the progress to this state, 
though our souls may be far above one another 
in perfection, no one will look down upon ano- 
ther, but those who are the farthest advanced 
Avill lend their most strenuous endeavours to 
bring forwards those who are striving to come 
up with them. There will be no jealousy, na 
envy, no wish for pre-eminence, in heaven. All 
will love God with their utmost powers, and all 
will love their fellow-creatures as themselves, 
enjoying happiness in unison with others, and 
not wishing for peculiar favour, even from God, 
to themselves individually. 

The heavenly civility which you speak of, 
must be universal, unlimited benevolence. It 
* Dr. Hartley. 



[ 163 ] 

is certainly very probable, that particular at- 
tachments may be formed in heaven, as upon 
earth, by particular circumstances; and none 
seem to me more probable, than the remembrances 
of those virtuous obligations which are past. 

1 do not quite like an idea, that I have some* 
where seen, '^ that one spirit may visit another, 
" as a lord does a commoner, or, it may be, as a 
*' commoner does a lord, 

*' Bowing low, 
*' As to superior spirits is wont in heav'n." 

Although this is a line from the divine Milton, 
I think it is not one of his sublime thoughts. 
The conception of angelic beings, their minds, 
and their manners, are subjects of too high a 
flight for even a mind like his; and he does not 
excel so much in his descriptions of the Divine. 
Being, and of angels, and archangels, as of men 
and demons. 

Dear Sir, your's sincerely, 

M. H. 

LETTER XXXIX. 

From Mrs, M. Hartley to the 
Rev. William Gilpin. 

BEAR SIR, June 18, 1800. 

I Received your kind and cheerful 
letter with great satisfaction. I hope '\% denotes 



r 164 ] 

bodily ease, as well as peace of mind. Undoubt- 
edly I do think ^^ cheerfulness a good attendant 
" on illness ;*' and I am glad that you agree 
with me. I think it is a mark of resignation^ 
and confidence in God, though there are time» 
in the varying states of bodily infirmities, when 
the mind is not capable of enjoying it. What 
you say of your different sensations, has put me 
into a train of reflections. Without any gloomi- 
ness of mind, I can perceive, both from reason 
and revelation, that this world is a state of trial ; 
and, as my favourite author Butler expresses it, 
a state of moral discipline, and of education, to 
fit us for a more perfect state. But I hope, 
that those precepts which you quote, *' touch 
*' not, taste not, handle not,'' relate only to things 
that are wrong. For when we consider the 
goodness of our bountiful Creator, and the beau- 
tiful objects with which he has (as you say) 
replenished the world; who^ that is not mo- 
rose or melancholy, can conceive that it is a 
duty to shut our eyes to beautiful objects, or 
our ears to harmonious sounds ? These, surely, 
are natural pleasures, and suitable enjoy mental 
for innocent minds, not only harmless, but bene- 
ficial, when they interfere with no moral duty. 
If they do; if the fine prospect^ or the concert, 
employ time or money which is due to any use- 
ful or charitable purpose ; they should certainly 



[ 165 ] 

1>e relinquished; as any other favourite pursuit 
should be, when it interferes with duty. This I 
conceive to be the reason, why you have never 
indulged your genius to its full extent, but have 
thought it better to be a vigilant pastor, than a 
great painter. The elegant arts may have lost 
by this preference, but the virtues have gained ; 
and when you shall hereafter see your well- 
instructed flock surrounding you in bliss, how 
will you rejoice, that you have given so much 
of your time and thoughts to them ! 

The histories we have of the lives of Christ, 
and his Apostles, do certainly give us no account 
of their enjoying even the most natural and in- 
nocent pleasures. Nothing is recorded of them, 
but the good they did, and the persecutions they 
endured. I often think how greatly their lives 
were different from ours. Theirs were past in 
labours and suffering, ours in peace and tran- 
quillity ; but I hope it may please God to con- 
duct some to perfection *' by prosperity, as 
''others by adversity.'* Both are trials; and 
the different state of the world produces dif- 
ferent kinds of trials. In their day, Christianity 
was persecuted; now it is estabhshed, at least in 
externals. Whenever the perfect and interior 
adoption of its benevolent precepts shall come; 
when all men shall do good, and not evil ; to 
teach others the virtues of patience, forbearance, 



[ 166 ] 

and forgiveness of injuries, will have no place. 
But shall we be then less virtuous, because we 
are more happy? Such a state, indeed, is not 
yet arrived, but I trust in the providence of 
God ! that it is arriving*, though by slow degrees; 
and that the day will come, in which all vice, 
and all misery, will be taken away. We know, 
at least, that it will be so in heaven ; and your 
" id^a, that ^^ we may possibly be there presented 
" with scenes of transcendent beauty, to which 
** the scenery of this world may bear some faint 
<* resemblance," is like a thought which formerly 
occurred to Milton, when he made the Angel 
Raphael say to Adam, 

" What if earth 
" Be but the shadow of heav'n, and things therein, 
" Each to other like, more than on earth is thought ?" 

Such ideas are pleasing to our imaginations^ as 
they are now formed ; but I do not feel curious 
on the subject : It suffices me to know, that God 
intends our happiness; and to believe, that, at 
the end^ all his creatures will be grateful to Him, 
and kind to each other. The manner I am well 
content to leave to his providence. 

Farewell, dear Sir ; I wish to you, and Mrs, 
Gilpin, a pleasant and happy summer; and I 
am your obliged and affectionate friend, 

M. H. 



[ 167 ] 

LETTER XL. 
From the Rev. Mr. Gilpin to ****. 

DEAR SIR, Vicar's Hill, 1794. 

ACCORDING to your desire, I have 
looked over your work with a critic's eye ; and 
I have taken great liberties with your stile, which 
I do, upon the principle of performing a trust. 
You may adopt, or not, as you please. A good 
stile,* in my opinion, consists in the fewest and 
easiest words, arranged in the simplest and most 
natural order, and running as smoothly as the 
ear will admit. On these principles I have used 
my correcting pen ; all quaint phrases, and em- 
barrassed sentences, should be avoided. You 

• There arc a sort of writers, who presume, like the 
Pharisees of old, that they shall be heard for their much 
speaking. They puzzle and dim that argument, with many 
words, which might be made clear and convincing in a few. 
These are tiresome, and do the mind little service. Ever 
when you write, or speak, (unless you intend to mislead,) 
give your argument simply, with clearness and shortness. 
Use no more words than are necessary to give it, and to 
enforce it j thus your single sheet shall be remembered, and 
made use of, when volumes of similies and metaphors are 
forgot. 



f 168 ] 

will find an example of what I mean by an 
embarrassed sentence, in the middle of the 46th 
page; where you must read two or three lines, 
before you can guess what is to come. 

With regard to the work itself, I think it a 
very entertaining one ; but still I think many 
thing:s might be added. You say little of drink. 
The history of bread might be useful and enter- 
taining. You might tell us how the poor lived ; 
and, with regard to the conclusion, I think you 
are nauch too short : you might introduce a little 
more morality ; you might draw equal instruc- 
tion from the necessities of mankind, and from 
their luxuries; you might shew, that the stomach 
of a man is able to convert into aliment a greater 
variety of things, than the stomach of 2^ny other 
animal ; which shews, (what the naturalist proves, 
from his being better able to bear the extremes 
of heat and cold,) that he is fitted by nature to 
bea^; every climate. Indeed his reason assists 
him, by the art of cookery, to alter and adapt 
his food. It is a melancholy consideration, that 
while half mankind are pining in want, the other 
half are consuming the blessings of heaven in 
intemperance. These and other similar obser- 
vations occur. You make much use of the word 
viands ; I have always erased it. People take 
dislikes to words. I conceive viands to be rather 



[ 169 ] 

a poetical word ; at least it is not so plain and 
good a word, I think, as food. 

I am, my dear Sir, 
Your faithful obedient servant, 

WILLIA^I GILPIN, 

LETTER XLI. 

From the Rev, William Gilpin ^o ****. 

DEAR sir, Vicar s Hill, April 1795. 

I Received, yesterday, the book you 
were so obliging to order for nie; and I return 
you my best thanks, both for it, and the honour 
I see you have done me. When I see a beautiful 
prospect, I commonly take a general view of the 
whole together, before I examine particulars. 
Such a view I have already taken of your book; 
and I find, though I am no antiquary, a great 
variety of amusing matter for me to speculate 
•upon, at more leisure. 

I used to tell you, formerly, I did not think 

, your stile quite simple enough. As far as I have 

, yet read, I think your work is written with more 

ease; and yet I met with a few sentiments, which, 

perhaps, might have been otherwise expressed. 

In the first paragraph, for instance, instead of 



[ 170 ] 

the imagery you employ, the sentence would, I 
think, have run more easily, if you had barely 
said ************ 

When you write, keep always in your mind 
what a great critic says of him, qui nil molitur 
inepte. I hope you will consider this freedom 
as a compliment: I mean it as such, I assure 
you, to your candour. 

I suppose you have seen Wyndham's Account 
of the Isle of Wight, but I dare say you keep 
clear of him. I have by me some strictures on 
the Isle of Wight ^ but I keep clear of you all, 
for mine are chiefly picturesque. 

Sir John D*Oyley shewed me some old (ioins, 
which, I think, he said you gave him. You 
know I admire these things only as an artist, 
and I thought those coins among the most beau- 
tiful of any I had ever seen. We make no such 
dies now, as some of the first Caesars. 

My wife and sister beg their best compliments 
to your family; with those of, dear Sir, your 
sincere and most obedient servant, 

WILLIAM GILPIN. 



[ 171 ] 

LETTER XLIL 
From the Rev. Wm. Gilpin to ****. 

BEAR SIR, Vicar's Hill, March 22, 1797. 

I Received your parcel yesterday ; and 
have an opportunity to-day, by Miss — , of 
returning' you my best thanks for it. I have 
already read the greatest part of your book, and 
have been much more entertained with it, than 
a picturesque man commonly is vs^ith a piece of 
antiquity. He seeks after what is curious and 
beautiful, the antiquary after what is curious 
and antique. I was particularly pleased w^ith 
your Army-Smiths. The idea was quite new 
to me. The church I was ordained to, was 
within a few yards of the Roman wall, which I 
have crossed over and over, without ever think- 
ing of Severus, or taking* up a single fragment. 
I dare say, you would have thought a living of a 
hundred a year there, better than a living of 
double] the value in any other place. But I 
think you maybe contented. I had no concep- 
tion that you were in such a field of antiquity as 
you are at Bath. 

A young man at Lymington, of the' name of 
****, has lately set up a printing-press. He 



[ 172 j 

seems to me a very deserving young fellow. I 
have set his press a going, by giving him a ser- 
mon to print. If I meet v^'ith an opportunity, I 
will send you a specimen of our v^^orkmanship. 

We beg to be remembered kindly to all your 
family, as well as to Mr. **** • and believe me, 
dear Sir, your sincere aud obedient servant, 

WILLIAM GILPIN. 



LETTER XLIII. 
From the Rev. William Gilpin to ****. 

BEAR SIR, Vicar's Hill, Oct, 19, ISOI. 

I Heard only yesterday morning of your 
marriage, by Mr. — , who called upon me. I 
should otherwise have done earlier what 1 now 
do, congratulate you on the occasion. From his 
account of your lady, I hope you have a prospect 
of great happiness before you ; and I know little 
of you, if you do not make her a very kind, 
attentive husband ; so I hope there is every reason 
to expect a happy marriage. You are beginning 
life; Mrs. G. and £ are ending it; but, through 
the blessing of God! with much more comfort 
than we could expect at our years. Since my late 
illness, I have never been perfectly well. It has 



[ 173 ] 

left a cong*h, and shortness of breath, I am 
obliged to see more company than I wish: 
but I have a kind friend, who manages things 
dexterously for me. I commonly sit in my 
bow-windowed parlom* below stairs, and all 
company is carried into the drawing-room above; 
and such company as I wish to see, or want to 
see me, she sends down to me. Once more, my 
dear Sir, I join with my family in congratulating 
you, and paying our kind respects to all under 
your roof. 

Your very sincere 
And faithful humble servant, 

WILLIAM GILPIN. 



LETTER XLIV. 

JFfom the Rev. William Gilpin to ****. 

Vicar's Hill^ July 7, 1802. 

I Received yesterday, my dear Sir, 
your agreeable communication. But as I see, 
from your letter, that you have communicated 
an event to me, in which, like a young father* 
you think half Europe is concerned, I know not 



[ 174 ] 

how to address yon. If, however, you will be 
CQntent with a plain congratulation, you shall 
have it cordially from me, at the head of my 
family; in which, also, my son and daughter 
unire. We desire you will carry our congra- 
tulations a step farther, to Mrs. *^**, to whom 
we desire to be kindly remembered. 

Believe me, dear Sir, 
Your sincere and most obedient servant, 

WILLIAM GILPIN. 



C 175 1 

JOSEPH AMEEN, 
THE ARMENIAN PRINCE. 



Joseph Ameen was first noticed in England during 
the war which terminated in 1763. It has been said, 
that the first Duke, then Ear], of Northumberland, ob- 
served him carrying a heavy burthen into his mansion 
in the Strand; and being struck with his appearance, 
made some enquiries, which led to the discovery of his 
rank, and present situation; that, interested by this 
history of the Prince's sufferings, his Lordship imme- 
diately afforded him his countenance and support. It 
will be found, however, that this account is not strictly 
accurate. The late B. Wilson, esq; the artist, was 
intimately acquainted with Ameen, and had painted 
three pictures of him; one for Lord Lyttleton, one for 
the Duke of Northumberland, and a third for Ameen 
himself: and the following are the particulars which 
Mr.Wilson used to relate of this extraordinary charafter. 
All the circumstances of the hardships he underwent, 
which Ameen mentions in his letters, were, literally, facts ; 
and to these he might have added many others, equally 
severe, which Mr. W. knew he had endured. So very 
low was he at one time reduced, as to be compelled to 
Wack shoes, for a scanty subsistence, at St. James's 
Gate^ where he was treated by the populace with con- 
tempt and abuse. During this state of degradation, he 
was accustomed to frequent the Royal Exchange, in the 
hope of seing some one from his own country who knew 
hira, or to whom he might be able to raajke himself 



[ 176 ] 

known. As he was orie day wandering through the Piaz- 
zas, bitterly lamenting his repeated disappointments, he 
observed aTurk, of whom he had some knowledge, bar- 
gaining with a person (who proved to be steward to the 
Earl of Northumberland) for the sale of a set of Arabian 
horses; and soon understood, from what passed between 
thisMussulman,and another of his countrymen, to whom 
he spoke in the Turkish language, that a gross imposi- 
tion was intended to be practised upon the Englishman. 
Ameen's principle of integrity revolted at this vil- 
lainy; and, determined to expose it, he accosted the 
steward, and, without hesitation, informed him of the 
discovery he had made. The steward being much 
struck, both with the man, his information, and the man- 
ner in which it was given, enquired into the particulars 
of the history of a person, to whom he felt under consi- 
derable obligation, Ameen related his " unvarnished 
*' tale," and succeeded so well in interesting his auditor 
in his favour, that the steward took an early opportunity 
of communicating what had happened, and what he had 
heard, to the Earl ; who immediately sent for Ameen, 
held a long conference with him, became convinced of 
the truth of his story, relieved his embarrassments, and 
finally honoured him with his patronage, and an intro- 
duction to the Duke of Cumberland, and other cha- 
racters of dignity and influence. Mr. Wilson used to 
describe Ameen as a man of strong enthusiasm of 
character, high spirits, and invincible bravery. En- 
gaging, as a volunteer, in some of our descents upon the 
coast of France, in the war of 1763, he was the first 
man who fired the enemy's shipping at St. Maloes, 
where he fought with the fury of a bull-dog. His 
mind seemed to be absorbed by the military passion, 
and the idea of emancipating his country from the 
tyranny of the Tuiks, to be his principal obje6t. This 



[ 177 ] 

darling hope he cherished through all his sufferings; 
and to this end all his exertions, all his wishes, pointed, 
as is strongly marked in the following Letters to tha 
Earl of Northumberland, Prince Heraclius, and his 
father. From Prince Heraclius he never received any 
answer; but having obtained the means of getting into 
Armenia, he joined Heraclius, who gave him a com- 
mand in his army, where he evinced abundant proofs 
of military skill and courage. 

Mr. Wilson related, that Ameen's countenance was 
strongly characterized by the violent and ferocious pas- 
sions; which were evidenced, alsoj in his manner. He 
was one day sent for to Northumberland House, when 
the Duke of Cumberland, Archbishop Seeker, and se- 
veral other distinguished personages, were at dinner 
there. After having detailed all the circumstances of 
his eventful life to the company, and answered a variety 
of questions that were put to him, he suddenly exclaimed, 
to the Duke of Northumberland, in such an impassioned 
manner as electrified all present, ** My Lord ! I know 
"you will prote6l me ; I know you will take care of 
" me !" Being, upon another occasion,with the celebrated 
liord Lyttleton, who patronized him, Ameen explained 
to his Lordship the hopes he entertained of freeing his 
'native land. Lord Lyttleton represented to him, at 
"large, the hardihood and difficulty of the attempt, and 
'concluded his speech by asking him, what he could say 
to the obstacles which presented themselves to his 
scheme? Ameen's countenance suddenly inflamed, his 
features became furious, and he shortly exclaimed, 
" By — , I'll overcome them." . .;4«. , 

He used frequently to visit Mr. Wilson, who was Ve?y 

kind to him, and had long enjoyed his affecti'on artdeon- 

• fidence. Calling one day on this gentleman, h^/shewed 

Ameen the prints of Alexander's battle, after Le Brun, 

N 



L 1^8 ] 

Anieen had read the history of the Macedonian's con- 
quests, and when he beheld these representations of 
them, a degree of fury animated his countenance and 
gestures, which Wilson declared no description could 
reach. On another occasion, he brought with him to 
Mr. Wilson's a man in a Turkish habit, a fine, tall, 
athletic and warlike figure. '' Behold this man,'* said 
he to Mr. W. " he was once one of my slaves. I 
*' commanded a khord of Arabs ; and this man, and 
*' some hundreds more, fought bravely under me. Is it 
" not true ?" * Yes, answered the other, with emphasis. 
" And if I go again, will you once more follow me ?'' 

* With my heart and soul,* said the stranger. " And 
" will your countrymen follow me?" * Can you doubt 

* it f was the Arab's only, but emphatic, reply. 

Ameen was in England more than once; for on being 
enabled to return to his native country with some credit, 
he attempted to reach Hamadan by the way of Arabia; 
but after encountering a variety of dangers and adven- 
tures, suffering many distresses, and penerating a consi- 
derable way into the mountains, he was at length stopped 
by an impassable snow, and returned to England. He 
did not, however, then meet with the same credit which 
be had before obtained ; his story was not believed ; and 
many of his former friends began to suspect that he 
was an impostor. This stung him to the heart; he 
burned with rage and vexation ; and determined not to 
rest, till he had vindicated his honour and veracity. It 
was during this painful interval, that he brought the 
Arab to Mr. Wilson, as above-mentioned. Having at 
length recovered the confidence of bis patrons, he ob- 
tained an audience of Lord Chatham, (then Mr. Pitt,) 
find made proposals to him, from Prince Heraclius, in 
behait' of Armenia: but the difficulty of the enterprize, 
Q,^d the uncertainty of any result beneficial to this 



[ 179 J 

fcountry,' |)revented Government from espowsing his 
Cause. At another time, Ameen served in the British 
armj in Germany ; was known to, arid continually near, 
the commander in chief, who Called him " his lion's 
** heart/' At the battle of Minden, he afforded ample 
proofs that this appellation had not been undeservedly 
bestowed. He served also, for a short time, under the 
King of Prussia, but left his army in disgust; highly 
incensed both with the Monarch, and Sir Joseph York; 
with the latter, because he bad not given him a letter 
to the King of Prussia; and with the King, because he 
would not suffer him to be near his person. He after- 
wards went to Russia, where he experienced much 
kindness, both from the Empress, and the English 
ambassador there ; and from thence found means to 
teach his native country, and join, once more, Prince 
Heraclius in Georgia. 

He corresponded, for some time after his return to 
Armenia, with the late Lord Lyttleton ; and in his las* 
letter informed his Lordship, that he had at length re- 
luctantly relinquished the idea of exciting a military 
spirit among his countrymen ; that they were devoted to a 
jnercantile life, and must continue to-live and die— ^slaves. 

Ameen possessed little of ** the milk of human 
" kindness;" but he had all the virtues of a partizan; 
and, had his energies been aided by the zeal of his 
own countrymen, and the assistance of other govern- 
Inents, he would, probably, have transmitted a name 
to posterity, as deservedly celebrated for patriotism and 
military success, as any of the heroes, either in ancient 
W modern tirae^. 



n2 



[ 180 ] 



LETTER XLV. 

From Joseph Ameen to the Earl of 
Northumberland* 

MY LORD, 17—. 

T Present you with the specimen of my writing, 
-■- that I promised : it is too bold, I am afraid, 
to make myself the subject, when I write for 
your Lordship ; but forgive, my good Lord, the 
language of a stranger. I have been in too low 
condition, to know how to write proper to your 
Lordship; but you speak to me more kind and 
humble than mean people, so I am encouraged. 

I have very good designs, and I have suffered 
much hardships for them. I think your Lord- 
ship will not despise a person in mean condition, 
for thinking of something more than livelihood. 
I have, with a very good will, thrown behind me 
a very easy livelihood for this condition, mean 
as it is > and I am not troubled, if I can carry 
my point at last. 

As long as I can remember my own family, 
(and I remember my grandfather,) they have 
always been soldiers, and always did remember 
Christ. Though they were torn out of their 
country by Shah Abbas, and planted in Hama- 



H 



[ 181 1 

ikn, they were'soldiers still. Two of my uncles 
did spill their blood in the service of Kouli 
Khan; my father was his slave for many years, 
but he was at last forced to fly into India, be- 
cause this tyrant had sharpened his battle-axe 
more upon his own army, than upon his ene- 
mies. Soon after, my father sent for me to 
Calcutta, where he is a merchant. There I 
s^w the fort of the Europeans ; and the soldiers 
exercise, and the shipping", and that they were 
dexterous and perfect in all things. Then I 
g-rieved with myself for my religion, and my 
country, that we were in slavery and ignorance 5 
like Jews, vagabonds upon earth ; and I spoke 
to my father upon all this, because our fathers 
did not fight for their country : but I understood 
that the black Armenians, in the mountains, were 
free, and handled arms from their childhood; 
and that those under the patriarchs, who are 
subject to the Turks and Persians, did not 
want couraage ; but they are all ignorant, and 
fight only with wild natural fierceness, and so 
they have no order, and do nothing but like 
robbers. And 1 resolved I would go to Europe, 
to learn the art military, and other sciences to 
assist that art : and I was sure, that if I could 
go into Armenia like an European officer, I 
might be useful, at least, in some degree, to my 
country. But my father did not listen to me ; 



[ 18« 1 

for God did not give hiiri understanding in 
these things. 

I could not bear to live like a beast, eating 
and drinking without liberty or knowledge. I 
went to Capt. Fox, of the ship Walpole, and 
kissed his feet a hundred times, to let me work 
for my passage to Europe, before he would bend 
to me ; but he did at last admit me, and I came 
to England with much labour ; but it did not 
grieve me, when I thought of my country. 

I entered, with my little money, into Mr, . 
Middleton's academy. I had the honour to tell 
your Lordship so before, I was first a scholar, 
and when my money was gone, I was then a 
servant there for my bread ; for I could not bear 
to go like a dog, wagging a tail at people's doors 
for a bit of bread. I will not grieve your Lord- 
ship with the miseries I went through; I do not 
icant to he pitied. J got service at last with 
Mr. Robarts, a grocer, in the city. For this 
time I carried burdens of near 2Q0lhs, upon my 
back, and paid out of my wages to learn geor 
metry^ and to complete my writing, and just to 
begin a little French : but because, my Lord, | 
almost starved myself to pay for this, and carried 
burdens more than my strength, I hurt myselfj^ 
and could not work any longer; so that I was 
in despair, and did not care what did become 
of me. A friend -put me to write with an ati | 



J 



[ 183 3 

torney in Cheapside, which for a little time got 
me bread : but 1 was resolved, in despair, to go 
again to India, because nobody would put out 
his hand to help me to learn ; and my uncle sent 
£60 to Governor Davis, to carry me back. 

I am afraid I am too troublesome in my ac-* 
count to your Lordship ; but we people of Asia 
cannot say little, and a great deal, like scholars. 
Now I met, by chance, some gentleman who 
encouraged me, and gave me books to read, and 
advised me to kiss Capt. Dingly's hands, and 
shew my business to him. He was a brave 
soldier ; took me by the hand ; spoke to his Ser- 
jeant, an honest man, to teach me the manual 
exercise j and gave me Toland's Military Dis- 
cipline, and promised to help me to learn gun- 
nery and fortification. But I was again unfor- 
tunate; for when light just began to come to my 
eyes, he died, and I was like as before, except 
that I knew a little of manual exercise, and had 
read some of the Roman history. I could learn 
no more, nor live; I was broke to pieces, and 
bowed my neck to Governor Davis, to go over 
to my friends, without doing any of those things 
I suffered for. 

I am in this net at present, but am happier 
than all mankind, if I can meet any great man 
that can prevail on Governor Davis to allow me 
som.ething out of the money he has (only on 



[ 184 ] 

condition I return, that I return to blindness 
again;) that I may go through evolutions with 
recruits, and learn gunnery and fortification ; and 
if there is war, to go one year as a volunteer. If 
Governor Davis w^rites that I have a great man 
here my protector, my father, who looks upon 
me as a person run away, and forsaken, will make 
me an allowance to learn. If I could clear my 
own eyes, and serve my country and my religion, 
that is trod under foot of Mussulmans, I would 
go through all slavery and danger with a glad 
heajpt; but if I must return, after four years 
slavery and misery, to the same ignorance, with- 
out doing any good, it would break my heart. 

My Lord, in the end, I beg pardon. I have 
experienced of your Lordship's goodness, else 
1 would not say so much. I would not receive, 
but return. And I want nothing, but a little 
speaking from the authority of India Governor 
to my friends. I have always been honest. Those 
I have been a slave to will say I am honest. Mr. 
Gray trusted me. 

Here is a sort of story, nothing but your Lord- 
ship's goodness can make tolerable to you. I 
am much obliged to your Lordship's patience ; 
and shall be very proud of giving your Lordship 
all the proof in my power, that I am your Lord- 
ship's very much obedient and humble servant, 

JOSEPH AMEEN, 



[ 185 3 

LETTER XLVI. 

From Joseph Ameen ^o Prince Heraclius. 

To the most shining, most Christian King, Hera^ 
cliiiSf of Georgia and Armenia, these. 

MY KING, 1755. 

ALL thing's that have been from the 
beginning" of the world to this day, are by the 
will of God. According" to the scriptures, ** all 
^* things were made by Him, and without Him 
" was not any thing made that was made." God 
created the heavens and the earth, the sea and 
the land; and it is he that made you king over 
two nations, Armenia and Georgia. Glory be 
to God, the Fatherof our Lord Jesus Christ, 
that made you defender and protector of these 
Christian nations, and of their faith; which have 
been for many hundred years under the hands of 
your Majesty's family. The same God will, I 
hope, deliver those Christians who are under the 
hands of Ottomans. For there is no difficulty in 
- the mighty hands of God; and whoever trusts 
in Him, shall not be alarmed. It was He that 
delivered Israel by the hand of the prophet Moses, 
out of the hands of Pharaoh, and fed them with 
manna, according to the holy Psalms, which 



[ 186 3 

saith, " man did eat the bread of Angels." May 
the same God preserve and strengthen the wrist 
of your Majesty, to defend us from the encroach- 
ments of barbarians. Amen. 

Having heard the fame of your Majesty's 
brave conquest, by which you have possessed the 
two kingdoms of Georgia and Armenia^ and that 
at present they are under your Majesty's pro- 
tection; being desirous, from the readiness of 
my soul, to offer yourMajesty my services, which 
I beg you will make no difficulty to accept ; as 
money is far from the desire of your Majesty's 
servant, who wishes nothing but to serve him 
who has the rule over his nation; for while I am 
here, I want nothing. I have a great friend 
here ; and that friend is my protector ; and that 
protector is the son of the King of England. If 
it please your Majesty to instruct me in your 
•will and pleasure, that I may petition to this 
great Prince, in order to obtain leave to come 
and serve you as an European officer, according 
to my low abilities; and that I may teach your 
soldiers to fight like Europeans, who are well 
known to your Majesty, that with a few men 
they overcome many. Your Majesty has heard 
of the German nation, who, with no more than 
20,000, are able to give battle to hundred thou- 
sands Mahomedans or Turks, and enemies to the 
Christian nations. I would also acquaint your 



[ 187 ] 

Majesty how it is, and by what means the Eu- 
ropean nations are such conquerors, and so brave 
warriors. 

First, a man is obliged to enter himself in the 
house of exercise, which they call here an aca-? 
demy, to learn, or to study, four or five year*?, 
the art of war ; that is to say, the art of building 
strong castles, the like of which are not to be 
found in all Asia ; and also the art of managing 
great guns in such manner, as none of our for- 
tifications could stand before them for three days. 
Likewise, the manner of encamping, with judg- 
ment; and the way of ranging the soldiers, so 
that they are like a wall of iron, not to be broken: 
and after having thoroughly completed his study- 
in that art, he leaves the place, goes and offers 
himself and his service to his prince or king ; 
thereby becomes an officer, or fighter for his 
King and country, and by long experience per- 
fects himself in that peat art. For the art of 
war here is not to be undertaken easily. It 
contains many things difficult to be known by 
Turks or Persians, and very much preferable to 
the mere strength of arm. See, King, it is 
not by the strength of arm that these nations are 
called conquerors, but by w isdom and art. Here 
every thing is by art, and by wisdom ; for with- 
out wisdom the land is not land, and the nations 
that dwell therein are blind and unhappy. Ac- 



[ (88 ] 

cording to the Old Testament, which saith, 
** God made the heavens, and the earth," by his 
infinite wisdom, therefore Goi> loveth wisdom. 
For this reason, I say,whoeverfolloweth wisdom, 
he is dear to, and beloved of God ! For, from 
wisdom proceeds all manner of goodness : also, 
a man is not righteous without wisdom, nor wisa 
without righteousness. 

The ancient Romans, who were so great, gave 
laws, and subdued all nations of the world: this 
was by art and wisdom, before our Saviour, al- 
though they were idolaters. But they were 
virtuous, and lived in good morals. Another 
example. Peter the Great, of Russia, who used 
not to be so great a warrior, and his country, 
could never have been so blessed, and flourished, 
had he not come over here to learn wisdom ; 
who, when he was in Holland, served in a place 
of ship-building like one of the labourers, and 
humbled himself therein. *' Whosoever hum- 
*' bleth himself, shall be exalted,'* &c.: and when 
he returned into his own country, he was full of 
all manner of wisdom, by which he made himself 
father, as well as lord and king, over his country. 

These are things which made the people of 
Europe to be conquerors, and to be esteemed 
more wise than all thi nations upon the face of 
the earth. For among them are learned men? 
who study the way in which GoD has made 



[ 189 ] 

all things according' to their nature; by which 
they are able to do things of great wonder and 
usefulness. 

They send, likewise, into every part of the 
world, at a great expense, for to learn all things 
that are produced upon or under the earth, by 
which they are increased in wisdom and riches; 
their riches are very great; their people are very 
happy, not being afraid of fame or danger ; and 
they are under excellent laws, by which no man 
is suffered to do wrong to another, though he be 
weak and poor. 

But this nation, this great and mighty na- 
tion, O my King, where I live, are not only a 
great and wise nation, but also destroyers of the 
devourers of mankind; 1 am surprised to see, 
that even the sheep in this country rest in quiet- 
ness, without fear of the wolves. 

May the great God grant your Majesty's 
subjects to follow their example, and to grow 
wise and conquerors, under the wisdom and cou- 
rage of your Majesty ; to whom God grant 
long life to tread your enemies, like dust, under 
your feet. 

May it please your Majesty to know who your 
servant is, that raises his head to speak to you, 
4ind takes pains to know these things, with much 
labour, for your Majesty's service, to whom God 
give victory. 



i ISO ] 

l^he liame of your servant is Ameeii, the son 
of Joseph, the son of Michael, the son of George, 
who is descended from Ameen, who, in the day 
that Armenia was broke under the battle-axe of 
Shah Abbas, \^as Minbaschy in his country; but 
he was made captive, with others, and was car- 
ried into Persia, and planted at Hamadan. 

From him your Majesty's servant is come^ 
and he is called of his name, being born at Ha- 
madan. But our captivity was grievous ; and 
the Persians, who, since their Mahomedanism^ 
(which is so well known to your Majesty,) are 
grown quite barbarous, not being so civilized 
as they were in ancient timesy according to the 
histories I have read in this blessed island ; so 
that my father fled from Hamadan, in the time 
of Shah Thcemas, and Kouli Khan, into India, 
to a place called Calcutta, where the English 
have fort and soldiers, and a great trade^ though 
their country is seven months voyage from Ben^ 
gal. There my father made himself merchant 
to this dav : and would have made me such as 
himself, but I did not submit to him. For I 
enquired of my fathers, from my infancy, the 
reason why we were persecuted by infidels, and 
why we did reside so contemptibly among law- 
less nations. But they made me no answer, and 
my heart was grieved, and I had none to comfort 
me in tny grief; for I said, " the ants th^ creep 




[191 ] 

*** upon the earth have a king, and we hare not ;^* 
and the nations of all countries make their song; 
upon us, also persecuting* us, and saying to us, 
that " you are masterless ; you have no king" of 
** your own ; you resemble the Jews scattered 
" upon the face of the earth ; you have no love 
** for one another, you are without honour, and, 
" by the disunity of your nation, all the nations 
** insult you. You are contemptible, and without 
** zeal; and you are as great lovers of money, as 
** the heathens were of their gods/' I could not 
bear all these reflections, so I grieved, and found 
none to heal me. I observed watchfully the 
Europeans,their wise customs, and their shipping, 
far better, both for sailing and for war, than the 
ships of the Indians ; and above all, the practice 
pf their soldiers, who, if there were thousands of 
men, by one word of command from their officers, 
instantly altogether move and act, as if they were 
one man. Then I thought in my mind, that it 
was God that had put in my heart to think on 
all these things ; therefore I spoke not to my 
father, but had hopes in my heart, that if I went 
to England, I should learn the art of war ; and 
I was encouraged; for then I heard a little (and 
not much) of your Majesty's name, until I canie 
here ; where 1 learned that your Majesty was 
established in your kingdom, and had routed a 
gre^t army of Persians. See, my King, what 



[ 192 ] 

a great thing the wisdom is, by which this nation 
know our country better than we do ; and that 
this nation is awakened, and we are asleep. On 
board the ship I worked like a sailor ; and after- 
wards, w^hen I came here, I was so reduced, that 
I was forced, by hunger, to offer myself to sale 
upon the Bazaar, to be sent into the New World. 
O, my King" ! do not pity me! Not even at the 
time that you hear of, or see, me sacrificed in 
your service ; but pity those servants of Christ 
who deserve pity. But the omnipotent hand of 
God saved me by an Englishman; and the same 
God, who heard the crying of my heart, did put 
it into the heart of a generous Nobleman, who 
is one of the pillars of the throne of England, to 
assist me. He made me explain the counsel of 
my heart; he made me known to the son of the 
King of England; he sent me to the place of 
education, where I learned the art of war ac- 
cordinGf to wisdom. 

My ambition is, to lay my knowledge at the 
feet of your Majesty 5 and to serve you to the 
best of my abilities. For know, O my King, 
that what is not built upon knowledge, though 
it was so very strong and lofty, is, as it were^ 
built upon sand. Therefore, my purpose is to 
go w^ell instructed into your Majesty's service, 
and to carry with me men skilful in all things^ 
(if you give me encouragement,) to strengthen 



t 193 3 

&tiA polish your kingdom, like the kingdoms of 
Europe ; for you have a good country, and com- 
mand over many brave men : and if you could 
gather the Armenians, a rich and trading peopled 
who are scattered to the east, and to the west, 
and the norths and the south, undfer the protec- 
tion of your Majesty's mig;hty^ arms, in your own. 
country, no kingdom in the east would be like 
your kingdom^ for riches and glory. 

May the eternal GoB, the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, sharpen your scymetar upon all 
your enemies, and strengthen the' wrist of your 
Majesty's right-hand, to protect our distressed 
nation, according to the wishes and labours of 
your serVantji 

JOSEPH AMEEN. 



LETTER XLVII. 
From Joseph Ameen to his Fathers 

MY FATHER, London, 17—. 

THE son of virtue is bravery, and 
bffetVery Cannot be without virtue: for as the 
Son proceedeth from the Father, so bravery 
does from virtue; More plainly to speak to 
thee, O ray father ; thou art a virtuous man ; 
and if 1 am thy true sony I am bound to be 





I 194 ] 

brave J by which I may be worthy to be called 
thy son, and also worthy of the name of that of 
our great forefather, A meen . O my father Joseph, 
the reason of ray departure from thee is to obtain 
bravery. What are thy thoughts ? Dost thou 
think, that I am come here only to learn the 
English language ? No : I am come to learn 
the art of war, which is preferable to all the arts 
upon the world ; this art is so precious, that it 
is always spoken of in the presence of Gaesars 
and kings. By this very art we are to give 
battle against the persecutors and enemies 
of our Christian nation, which stands captive 
under their hands. It is inexpressible, the pre- 
ciousness of this great art ; for without it, it is 
impossible that our religion should ever shine. 
We shaU always be persecuted under our ene- 
mies, if we do not strive to learn it. My father, 
these were the reasons of the departure of thine 
only son ; and when I used to mention them to 
thee, instead of commending me for it, thou 
didst always insult me, and turn thy countenance 
from me, as if I was speaking of treason. And 
now I would not tell thee so plainly and openly 
my mind, if I had not accidentally met a Noble- 
man, who, when he was made acquainted with 
the counsel of my heart, and the hardship which 
I underwent for the sake of my nation, was suri 
prized; loved me like a father; gave me moneys 



r 



195 ] 



spoke of me to the son of the King" of England, 

and also to several Noblemen. Again, he asked 

me what was my design, that made me come 

away from my father? And when I made answer, 

and said, that I am come to learn the art of war, 

still he loved me, and comforted me, and said 

to me, *' Be contented, I will make interest for 

** thee to the son of our King, to give thee order 

** that thou may est go to the place of education, 

" and learn what thou desirest ; where are all the 

** sons of noblemen learning the art of war, and 

** thou shalt learn the same with them." O my 

father, be glad ; for God is with me. I am not 

come here to learn luxury and extravagancy; I 

am come to obtain worthiness, to learn wisdom, 

to know the world, and to be called a perfect 

servant to my sheeplike, shepherdless, Armenian 

nation. Again, know ye, that if you had made 

a present, or had spent 5000 rupees, you could 

not be able to get me such great and noble 

friends. Therefore, it is Almighty God that 

has showered down upon me his infinite mercy; 

for it is He that knows the counsel of my heart, 

and my heart is unto Him. He is Father of 

all that trust in Him ; without Him is nothing, 

and nothing can be done. 

Michia, my uncle, you seem to be very angry 
with me, my beloved. What were my sins ? 
Why have you forgot me in that manner ? Why 

o 2 



[ 196 } 

don't you comfort me with a philosophical letter 
of yours? I have driven myself even to death, 
for your sakes; and instead of encouraging me, 
you think me a prodigal. I believe, that you 
have heard of the wrath of my sweet father, who 
had rejected me from being his son. After his 
arrival on board of the ship, he sent a letter to 
the hand of my shepherd David, and it was 
written in this manner : 

" Brother David, knowest thou so far, that 
** there is no absolution for Ameen, my son -, 
** unless he is crucified, his head downward, fur 
^* the sake of his nation, as Apostle Peter was 
'< crucified/' 

Thou seest he was comparing such a sinner 
as me to that great saint ; but he should have 
patience to stay, that I might obtain worthiness 
first, and then be crucified. He thought that 
he could pronounce that word crucified with ease ; 
but he did not imagine the difficulty of the loss 
of his only son : and after all those great torments 
and hardships which I have been under, I am 
beginning to make his name and yours to shine* 
You all desire me to return ; ignorant I came, 
and ignorant you would have me to go. 

You are indebted to hearten me. I am con- 
tented to obtain an empty letter, either from thee, 
or from my father; even that you will not do. 
my compassionate uncle, if I have sinned 



i w 1 

'fcefore my father, tell me what evil have I been 
culpable of towards you? why i/om forsake me 
so? I know, within myself, that it is only my 
Ruler David, who bears and weig-hs the torments 
and smarts from my father. My father cannot 
blame you ; for, at the time of my desertion, 
you was at "Soidapad; and my Ruler David at 
Calcutta, from whence I took my flight ; there- 
fore, let me die for him ; let my blood be under 
his feet. It is tnie, that you are my shepherd ; 
but he is only my Ruler and my manager, my 
comptroller amd my comforter, my supporter 
and my teacher. I cry, I roar for David to see; 
but in vaia. 1 cannot — — and thou, Mirzabeck, 
the soul of my soul, ******** 
My Ruler David, thy favour of the 3d of 
February, from Hugley, arrived here the 14th 
December, 175o, by the hand of John Mills, to 
the hand of Stephartus Coggian ; but I did not 
«ee the person who brought thy letter. I received 
it from Stephanus. It was a great joy to me 
to obtain such a fatherly letter from thee; and 
I was very thankful to God for having such a 
Ruler as thee in this world. My sweet father is 
a little angry with me, that 1 did not submit to 
his will ; but I know within myself, that a fruit- 
ful tree is dear and humble, its branches bend 
tp the ground. Therefore, while I am fruitless, 
it is impossible for me to obtain humbleness ; 



[ m ] 

but when I am fruitful, it is natural then I should 
be humble. A second example. A valiant 
warrior, while he is in the battle, is obliged to 
appear proud; first, among- his soldiers ; secondly, 
against his enemy; and, if he should obtain a 
conquest over them, it is then natural to appear 
humble, if he is a true warrior. These are my 
less understanding thoughts; may your great 
wisdom approve them. 

J last year sent two letters, by the hand of 
Mr. Davis, to the hand of Mr. Manningliam. 
to be given to you. I am in great hopes 
that you will perform what I have already 
desired in them ; to write to Mr. Davis, to pay 
me the money deposited in his hands; but if 
not, let it then be your pleasure. Let me tell 
you, that I have no need of money here : but you 
will all repent, for not believing your son. So 
much is sufficient to your understanding, if you 
read this letter with care and wisdom. But if 
you please to be friends with me, it is a debt 
upon you to do ^Aw^,— ^First, to write to Mr. 
Davis, to pay me the 500 rupees; secondly, a 
letter, with great thanks, and presents to this 
my protector Nobleman, of whose name I shall 
mention in this letter. The presents that yQu 
shall send me are as follow : ***** 
They may be worthy of this great Nobleman's 
lady, whose great spirit and generosity is higher 



C 199 ] 

|h an language,, and who herself stooped down 
to take notice of me. 

My father, yon will think that I don't want to 
come home to you. Don't you think so. I long 
for it. My longing is measureless ; and it is 
so great, that I cannot explain it. Your Ipve 
is as hot in my heart as fire; and for the sake of 
that love, 1 have first made myself a mariner, and 
laboured hard for six months ; secondly, when 
I arrived here, I did serve to Stephen, like a 
captive ; thirdly, after turning me out of his 
house, three weeks I lived upon threehalfpence 
a day. Fourthly, I went to sell myself, but Pro- 
vidence sent to me the son of my schoolmaster, 
who delivered me from being recaptive. Fifthly, 
I have lost one year's service. Sixthly, I was a 
load carrier, a porter, for two years, and paid 
£17 out of that laborious and slaving employ- 
ment to Stephen, who spent for me while I was 
with him. And at last, from portership, did arise 
myself to clerkship. There I have writ about 
three months^ -, and absented from thence, I was 
again driven into my old distresses. O father ! 
without money, without friend, but the Lord 
in heaven ; until, one day, this great man, whom 
I have mentioned above, who had beard of my 
character, sent me his servant, and 1 was admitted 
to him; and when I was come into his presence, 
after knowing my counsel, and the law which is 



r 200 3 

for you, and for my nation, he was surprized, and 
said to nae, " Ameen, it is very hard to live 
<' in this country without friend, and without 
*5 money, ajmost four years; therefore the Lord 
f* is with you. Be contented ; I will from this 
f* time provide and furnish you with all neces- 
f* saries;** and, said he, '' 1 will mediate to the 
f* son of our King ; and, after you have learned 
^* the art of war, 1 will send you to your father 
^f and uncles.'* The noble lady comforted me 
likewise, and said, ^' Don't despair ; be glad ; 
** O zealous for thy country, Ameen.'* Be not 
afraid, then, my father. Almighty and Sabath 
God it is, that has put in my heart to depart 
from you, and come here, that I might be able to 
serve my masterless country. Therefore, pray 
to God for me, with a strong mind, with trust and 
patience. The name of the nobleman is the 
Earl of Northumberland ; he is a lord of a great 
worth with the King of this land. Great men, 
and nobles, all that know him, love him; and it 
is three weeks since he knew me. I dine at his 
palace ; and he has giv^n me a good deal of 
money and books; his goodness and friendship 
is measureless. Many times I dined with great 
meii here, throvigh his friendship. It is to him 
that I am indebted for great strength and com- 
fort I receive from a nobleman, called Sir 
Charles Stanhope, who is father to me. H^ haa 



C 201 ] 

^ade me known to another nobleman, calle4 
my Lord Cathcart, \vho is a soldier, and gave 
me much encouragement. Once more be glad. 
As to what I have writ to ygU;, perform it. The 
loss of seven years I shall repair in one month ! 
God Almightx will dejiver us from all diffi- 
culties. 

Be ye all in health! 

J. A, 



[ 202 ] 
DOCTOR SAMUEL JOHNSON, 

AND 

JOSEPH FOWKE. Esq. 

Of the colossal intellect, varied learning, exemplary 
morality, and warm piety, of the celebrated Samuel 
Johnson, it is unnecessary to say^any thing; since the 
general opinion, with respect to this extraordinary 
man, seems to be, that " take him all in all, we ne*er 
*' shall look upon his like again." A few particulars, 
however, of one of his correspondents, Joseph Fow^ke, 
Esq; who had the honour to be considered as a " dear 
*' friend'* by the Doctor, may not be uninteresting to 
the reader. This gentleman, who died three or four 
and twenty years ago, at a very advanced age, was 
born about the year 1715, and entered into the service 
of the East-India Company at the age of 17. He 
remained at Fort St. George till 1748, and was so high 
in the opinion and esteem of his employers, that when 
he returned to England he was pressed by the Secret 
Committee of the East-India Directors, (in whom the 
regulation of the affairs of the Company was then 
entirely placed,) to accept the government either of 
Bengal or Madras. This offer being made previously to 
the conquests of Lord Clive, and the cession to the 
English of the great provinces of Bahar and Orissa, was 
by no means so advantageous as it might at present be 
considered. Mr. Fowke, therefore^ declined it ; and 
remained in England until 1771- At this period he 
returned to India ; where some differences of opinion 
unfortunately occurred between him and the Provisional 
Government, which ended in his being tried in June 



[ 203 ] 

1775, in the Supreme Court of Bengal, under two 
indictments. In the first of these trials the verdict 
was, not guilty. In the second, which came on imme- 
diately afterwards, and in which Mr. Fowke was im- 
plicated with Maha Rajah Nundocomar and Roy Rada 
Churn, the verdict was, ** Joseph Fowke and Nundo- 
*' comar, guilty; Rada Churn, not guilty." 

In the year 1788, Mr. Fowke finally quitted Bengal 
with a recommendation from Lord Cornwallis to the 
Court of Directors, as a person entitled to receive the 
pension which was promised to their servants, return- 
ing from Bengal out of employment, under their ge- 
neral letter, dated Sept. 21, 1785; which directed, that 
^^ such senior merchant, whose fortune was not equal 
*' to 10,0001. should receive as much annually as, with 
*^ the interest of his own money, should make up an 
''income of 4001. per year." This recommendation, 
together with a petition, was presented to the Directors 
on Mr. Fowke's return. They were, however, rejected, 
and an answer returned, *' that the Court did notcon- 
*' sider him as coming under the description of persons 
" entitled by their orders to receive pensions; and that, 
" therefore, his request could not be complied with." 
After a lapse of some time, the claim was discussed in 
the House of Commons, when the following resolutions 
were made in his favour. 

^^ Resolved, That it appears to this House that the 
*' petitioner, Joseph Fowke, has proved the allegations 
*^of his petition. 

*' Besohed, That it appears to this House, that the 
*' said Joseph Fowke is entitled to the pension or al- 
" lowance engaged to be paid by the East-India Com- 
" pany to their servants, under certain descriptions, and 
** under certain conditions, expressed in their letter from 
" the Court of Directory of the 21st of September, 



[ 204 ] 

^« 1785j to the Governor-General and Council of Ben- 
« gal, from the time in which, by the said letter of the 
^* 21st of September, 1785, persons described in the 
^' said letter were to receive the same." 

Mr. Fowke retained the vigour of bis intellects to 
the close of his life; and what, perhaps, is still more 
remarkable, wrote, till his death, a hand of singular 
firmness and beauty. The activity of his mind, and 
liveliness of his imagination, remained to the last; as will 
be evident from the following ietters,written at, or nearly, 
the age of 80. His conversation was sprightly and 
entertaining; highly seasoned with anecdotes, many of 
which related to his great and venerable friend, Samuel 
Johnson : among jthese he was accustomed to relate 
the two following. 

One morning, on Mr. Fowke^s calling on Dr. John^ 
»on, he found the] Sage somewhat agitated. On 
enquiring the cause, ** I have just dismissed Lord 
•' Chesterfield/' said he ; ^' if you had come a few 
** moments sooner, I could have shewn you my letter 
** to him." Then musing a little, he added, *'Hpw- 
^' ever, J believe I can recollect it pretty well :" and 
immediately repeated a very long and very severe 
epistle ; much longer, Mr. F. used to say, than that 
which is given by Boswell. Mr. F, further remarked^ 
that, upon this occasion, Johnson told him^ Lord C. 
sent a present of lOOl. to Johnson, to induce him tq 
dedicate the Dictionary to him ; *• which I returned,'* 
Said he, " to his Lordship with contempt:*' and then 
added, ** Sir, I found I must have gilded a rotter^ 
" post ! Lord C. Sir, is a wit among lords, but only 
** a lord among wits.'' 

Mr. Fowke once observed to Dr. Johnson, that, in 
his opinion, the Doctor's literary strength lay in writing 
biography, in which lirie of composition he infinitely 



[ 205 ] 

exceeded all bis contemporaries. *' Sir," said John- 
son, " I believe that is true. The dogs don^t know how 
*' to write trifles with dignity." Then, speaking of the 
difficulty of getting information for the subject, he 
aaid, that when he was writing the life of Dryden, he 
desired to be introduced to Colley Gibber, from whom 
he expected to procure many valuable materials for his 
purpose. " So Sir," said Johnson to Gibber, "I find 
** you knew Mr. Dryden ?" * Knew him ! O Lori>, I 

* was as well acquainted with him, as if he had been 

* my own brother.* '* Then you can tell me some 
'" anecdotes of him?" *0 yes! a thousand I Why we 
' used to meet continually at a club at Button's. I re- 
' member as well as if it were but yesterday, that when 

* he came into the room in winter time, he used to 

* go and sit close by the fire, in one corner ; and then 

* in summer time, he would always go and sit in the 
' window.' ** Thus, Sir," said Johnson, ^^ what with 
** the corner of the fire in winter, and the window in 
*' the summer, you see that I got much information^ 
'^ from Gibber, of the manners and habits of Dryden/* 



LETTER XLVIIL ^ 

From Dr. Samuei. Johnson to Francis 

FOWKE, Esq. 

SIR, July n, 1776. 

I Received, some weeks ago, a collection of 
papers, which contain the trial of my dear 
friend, Joseph Fowke ; of whom I cannot easily 



[ 206 ] 

be induced to think otherwise than well, and 
who seems to have been injured by the prose- 
cution and the sentence. His first desire is, 
that I should prepare his narrative for the press; 
his second, that, if I cannot gratify him by pub- 
lication, I would transmit the papers to you. 
To a compliance with his first request I have 
this objection, that I live in a reciprocation of 
civilities with Mr. H., and therefore cannot 
properly diffuse a narrative, intended to brin^ 
upon him the censure of the public. Of two 
adversaries, it would be rash to condemn either 
upon the evidence of the other ; and a common 
friend must keep himself suspended, at least till 
he has heard both. 

I am, therefore^ ready to transmit to you the 
papers, which have been seen only by myself; 
and beg" to be informed how they may be con- 
veyed to you. I see no legal objection to the 
publication; and of prudential reasons, Mr. 
Fowke and you will be allowed to be fitter 
judges. 

If you would have me send them, let me 
have proper directions; if a messenger is to 
call for them, give me notice by the post, that 
they may be ready for delivery. 

To do my dear Mr. Fowke any good would 
give me pleasure; I hope for some opportunity 



[ 207 ] 

of performing' the duties of friendship to him, 
without violating them with regard to another. 

I am. Sir, your most humble servant, 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



LETTER LII. 

From Dr, Samuel Johnson to Joseph 
FOWKE, Esq, 

DEAR SIR, April 19, 1783. 

TO shew you, that neither length of 
time, nor distance of place, withdraws you from 
my memory, I have sent you a little present,* 
which will be transmitted by Sir Rob. Chambers. 

To your former letters I made no answer, 
because 1 had none to make. Of the death of 
the unfortmiate man, (meaning Nundocomar,) I 
believe Europe thinks as you think; but it was 
past prevention ; and it was not fit for me to 
move a question in public, which I was not qua- 
lified to discuss j as the enquiry could then do no 
good, and I might have been silenced by a hardy 
denial of facts, which, if denied, I could not prove. 

Since we parted, I have suffered much sick- 
ness of body, and perturbation of mind. My 

* A coUe^on of the Doctor's works. 



[ 2(^8 ] 

tiiind, if I do not flatter myself, \s unimpaired/ 
except that sometimes my memory is less ready ; 
but my body, though by nature very strong, has 
given way to repeated shocks; 

Genua lahant, vastos quatit ceger anJielitus artusc 
This line might have been written on purpose 
for me. You will see, however, that 1 have not 
totally foi'saken literature. I can apply better 
to books than I could in soniie more vigorous' 
parts of my life^ at Jeast than I did ; and I have 
one more reason for reading ; that time has, by 
taking away my companions, left me less oppor- 
tunity of conversation. 1 have kd an inactive 
itnd careless life ; it is time at last to be diligent. 
There is yet provision to be made for eternity. 

Let me know, dear Sir, what you are doing. 
Are you accumulating gold, or picking up dia- 
monds? Or are you now sated with Indian 
Wealth, and content with what you have ? Have' 
you vigour for bustle, or tranquillity for inaction ? 
Whatever you do, I do not suspect you of pil* 
laging or Oppressing ; and shall rejoice to see 
you return, with a body unbroken, and a mind 
uncorrupted. 

You and I had hardly any common friends ; 
and, therefore, I have few anecdotes to relate t& 
you. Mr^ Levet, who brought us into acquaint- 
ance, died suddenly at my house last year, in hitt 
seventy-eighth year, or about that age. Mrs. 



[ ^09 ] 

Williams, the blind lady, is still with me, but 
much broken by a very wearisome and obstinate 
disease. She is, however, not likely to die; and 
it would delight me, if you would send her some 
petty token of your remembrance. You may 
send me one too. 

Whether we shall ever meet ag-ain in this 
world, who can tell? Lotus, however, wish well 
to each other. Prayers can pass the line, and 
the Tropics. 

I am^ dear Sir, yours sincerely, 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



LETTER L. 

From Dr, SAMtJEi. Johnson to Samuel 
Richardson, Esq. 

BEAR SIR, May 17. 

AS you were the first that gave me 
any notice of this paragraph, I send it to you, 
with a few little notes, which I wish you would 
read. It is well, when men of learning and 
penetration busy themselves in these enquiries ; 
bat what is their idleness, is my business. Help, 
indeed, now comes too late for me, when a 
large part of my book has passed the press. 

p ' ■ ■ ■■ 



[ 210 ] 

I shall be glad if these strictures appear to 
yoa not unwarrantable ; for whom should he 
who toils in settling a language desire to please, 
but him who is adorning it? I hope your new 
book is printing. Made nova virtute. 

I am, dear Sir, 
Most respectfully, and most affectionately,^ 
Your humble servant, 

SAMUEL JOHNSON- 



LETTER LL 

From Joseph Fowke, Esq; to •••*. 

London, June lOih, 1791* 

MY DEAR FRIEND, 

IN recovering my acquaintance, after 
an absence of twenty years, it is an inj^nite 
pleasure to see no diminution of excellence in 
the souls of those, with whom I was formerly 
connected in friendship, on the strength of in- 
ternal merit ; and that their beauty continue* 
the same, whilst the ravage of time has fright- 
fully deformed the earthly vehicle. lu con- 
versing with you at a distance, I view in you 
the charbasof youth; for virtue is immortal, and^ 



t 211 ] 

always in bloom. Your charity, irihocencei 
benevolence, and, above all, your holy sub- 
mission and patience in suffering, will scarcely 
allow me to think of the deformity of the tene- 
ment; but, on better recollection, 1 survey the 
** wrinkles and dull luminaries with delight ^" 
the palsied hand inspires no terror, since the 
disproportion of body and spirit is a practical, 
and, at the same time, the strongest, argument 
I know, independently of revelation, for the im- 
mortality of the soul. Happy should I be, if I 
oould look back with your innocence on a past 
life ! All that is left for me is, to pay more 
regard to the future ; which I hope I shall not 
neglect. Before I received your letter, I had 
been acquainted with your sufferings. I pray 
God, that you may have seen the end of them*> 
and that the remainder of your days may pass 
in uninterrupted tranquillity and content. 

Your benevolent soul will receive some gra- 
tification, I am sure, from the perusal of the en- 
closed Resolutions of the House of Commons 
in my favour* If I get nothing in consequence,, 
they are honourable to me at any rate, as they 
were carried almost unanimously. I owe every 
thing to the zeal of Mr. Buike, who took up 
the cause of a stranger, favoured by no recom- 
mendation, on the principle, that no British 
subject ought to be aggrieved, without finding 

P2 



[ 212 ] 

redress from the Commons of Great-Britain. 
He has been indefatigable in the pursuit of his 
object 5 and I hope he will be paid by the public 
with the increase of that reputation he deserves. 
Favours are much enhanced by the manner in 
which they are conferred ; and the following- 
notice I received from Mr. Burke on the7th inst. 
will shew how well he understands that secret. 
"I don't like to give you joy, till the money is in 
** your pocket. **** shewed a disposition to 
" mutiny, and to disobey the House, till next 
*^ session, on the pretence that it was thin. But 
*' at any rate I resolved to go on. The Re- 
'^ solutions in your favour are passed. I am 
^^ sorry for your illness. * # * * * * ^, 
** Dundas behaved admirably and decisively. 
<^ I am happy in having contributed to your 
"satisfaction, and Sec, &c." 

Should I get an increase of income, I shall 
very likely treat ****, some part of the summer, 
with a tour through England, after two years' 
imprisonment ; and in this tour I shall contrive 
to see you, if possible. 

Farewell ] and believe me ever 

Yours, &c. 

JOSEPH FOWKE. 



[ 213 



LETTER Lll. 
From Joseph Fowke, Esq; to ****. 

London, June lltJi, 1792. 

MY DEAR FRIEND, 

I can very truly say, I have been 
made happy by the receipt of a letter from 
you of the 7th of May, 1792, as it breathes 
a spirit of ease and tranquillity in a situation 
which many would think a state of trial and 
affliction. To see virtue triumphant, affords me 
at all times the highest gratification possible ; 
and I will still hope, that, in a little time, you may 
be able to acquire a free use of your crutches, 
which will be a considerable addition to your 
happiness. 

The opinion I entertain of your candour and 
sincerity, fully convinces me that you would say 
nothing to my advantage that you did not think; 
but the same sincerity on my side requires, that I 
should undeceive you in the too favourable 
opinion you entertain of the powers of j[V)sl: 
imagination, in supposing them undimipartake 
I never had much to boast of, but I V***^ \^ 



[ 214 ] 

scarcely a ray of li^ht left to cast lustre upon 
any subject. The other part of your compliment 
respecting my attachment to my old friends, I 
can honestly take as my due. My heart is 
warm as ever to true merit ; yet I always fear to 
pour it forth, lest its effusions should be mistaken 
for the flattery, which too commonly prevails 
in the world. I frequently suffer pain in sup- 
pressing grateful acknowledgments for kind- 
nesses that have been done me, when my wish 
has been to give an entire vent to my feelings. 

I entirely agree with you, that family know- 
ledge is not to be neglected in the education of 
a young woman ; and I can assure you, that *** 
will bear a strict scrutiny on this head : and I 
have a proof in her, that domestic concerns are no 
way incompatible with literary pursuits. She 
took leave of you, much disgusted with her 
drawing performances; but has lately taken 
her pencil up again, under the tuition of Mr. 
Edwards, who instructs the academicians. He 
draws in your style, and is, in my judgment, an 

able teacher, r draws in perspective, and 

pursues that very closely; but is not yet perfectly 
reconciled to her geometrical lines, and the an-^ 
tI^s a, B, C, and C, D, E, 

atever improvements / may hereafter 
my late tijxie of day, must be from 



L 215 ] 

Che living, and not from the dead ; I have not 
attention sufficient for a book, or I should cer- 
tainly have read Home's Elements of Criticism, 
upon your recommendation. I have much from 

a friend of mine in praise of , from the 

account you gave of her and . I lament 

that I have no opportunity of knowing them. 
These are the treasures I hunt after. " Give 
** me the man," says Bruyere, or something 
like it, ^' from whom books are made." When- 
ever they fall in my way, I endeavour to make 
prize of them. Ah! where shall I find another 
Johnson, who, with all his failings, was a very 
superior being? I am sorry his biographers 
cannot be brought upon their trial for murder : 
it would be no difficult matter to convict them. 
I acquainted you, in a former letter, with the 
hopes I entertained of Mrs. Montague's notice 
of ****. She has, in the course of the winter, 
invited us both to dine with her. Mrs. Carter 
and Mrs. Chapone were of the company ; and 1 
am sorry I did not learn the names of either of 
them till next day. I had formerly been in 
company with Mrs. Carter, at Mrs. Mon- 
tague's, about thirty years ago, but the least 
trace of her image remained not on my mind; 
so she has passed from me like a shadow, most 
likely never to be viewed more. I partake 
deeply in your concern for the loss of ****. It 



[ 216 ] 

is natural to grieve for the loss of a relation dr 
friend, but it is seldom we can be justified in it. 
We may justly be allowed to grieve, where we 
entertain doubts for the salvation of a person 
departed ; but in every other case we ought 
to rejoice, and it is selfish not to do it. It is 
rebellious, at the same time, not to submit with 
pheerful resignation to the will of the Almighty 
who n[iade us. You have made use of the softest 
balm to your wounds, by submitting with pious 
resignation to his will. 

If you should happen to fall in company with 
Lady ****, you will find her pleasing, and most 
jamiable for her philanthropy. There is no 
distress that she will not go to the bottom of her 
pocket to relieve. With a great deal of volatility, 
she is moral, and perfectly correct. Her daugh- 
ter **** has all her virtues, which are many, 
without her imperfections. By great pre- 
ferment in the Church, and many legacies, I 
understand that - — — is now become rich, 
which I am very glad to hear. The Mus- 
sulmen of India, of highrank, invariably con- 
clude their letters with, *' May you h?i\e peat 
"riches! what can I say more?" /do not 
impart this wish to my friends; for I look upon 
peat riches as the bane of all happiness. 

Farewell. I am afraid I have tired you ; and 
who is not wearied with the gabble of fourscore ? 



[ 217 ] 

I have, however, eight months to run, before I 
assume that venerable title. 

Believe me ever your sincere old friend, 

JOSEPH POWKE. 



LETTER LIII. 
From Joseph Fowke, Esq. 

MY DEAR FRIEND, Sept. 17, 1793. 

I Am much flattered by your enter- 
taining* letter of the 22d of last month, pre- 
ceded by another without date. If my 
faculties were not become torpid, you have 
thrown matter enough in my way for the subject 
of a very long letter; but, in my present state, 
I can write or read very little. I am a great 
deal more disposed to talk with you; and sincerely 
regret that I am not likely ever to have that 
pleasure, unless you would make a bold sally, 
and honour me with a visit this summer. You 
shall have a good apartment, and your own will 



I 218 3 

in every thing; which is no small bribe to a 
lady. You mast pardon my replying to your 
favours with more brevity than is suitable to my 
inclinations. Plain and sincere professions of 
friendship and regard for those whose talents 
and virtues render them useful to society, are 
all the qualifications left for me in a correspon- 
dent. The hand of time has taken away the rest, 
and has given to dulness possession of the vacant 
spaces, which were occupied by imagination 
in the early part of my life. But, cold as I am, 
I was happy to find I could yet be delighted 
with agreeable scenes of your pointing out. The 
ruins of Tintern Abbey were beautiful beyond 
any thing of the kind I have ever seen ; they 
would, however, have been at least half as 
much more so, if you had been present to assist 
me with your remarks. There were many other 
rich scenes, all familiar to you, I dare say, 
which fed my fancy in a tour of four hundred 
miles; and both my companions and myself 
enjoyed them the more, as we gained an addi- 
tion of health through every stage, which has 
continued to us ever since. I repeat again, with 
sincerity, that I wish you had been with us, 
for your own sake as well as for ours. There 
is no fifoing through life without a little self- 
interest. I am willing, however, to think that 
fe\yare less governed by it than myself* J^ot 



[ 219 ] 

niany will flatter an old man; and, therefore, I 
hope I may be indulged in flattering" myself. 

1 congratulate you upon the i^ecovery of your 
liberty. I had long been expecting to hear of 
the spring you made, but I am afraid you did it 
with a little too much violence ', however, I am 
glad to find that chance produced a good eft'ect, 
as it often does, where reason might have failed ; 
or, to speak more properly, Providence took 
care of you, when you did not know how to 
take care of yourself. I am inclined to believe, 
that this incident might be farther improved to 
your advantage. You have heard, no doubt, of 
Indian Fakeers holding their arms stretched 
up in the air till they have become fixed, like 
the branches of a tree. After endurino- this 
penance for years, they will recover the perfect 
use of them, by constantly rubbing them with 
oil. I am satisfied, if you had followed the 
same method, you would not have sufiered from 
any contraction of the sinews of your leg; 
and, perhaps, it might not now be too late. I 
judge native oil of turpentine to be the best for 
the purpose. The mention of India brings me 
to another part of your letter. I do not, in the 
least, wonder that Mr. Hodges has succeeded 
so well in his publications. I predicted, in 
India, that he would do so^ without seeing them, 
^nd for no other reason than the originality of 



[ 220 ] 

his subjects. Sixteen years ago, I observed, 
on viewing some Indian prospects, that the 
imagination of Claude Lorrain would have been 
much improved by them. An inferior genius to 
Hodges would have profited in his situation ; 
by which I do not mean to rank him in a 
superior class, I mean only to lay a particular 
stress upon the advantages of original perform- 
ances. Perhaps I am less disposed to favour 
him, from having seen his landscape paintings 
only, for which he was paid an extravagant price; 
and they were executed so slovenly, that, in a 
very little time, you could not tell what they were 
intend to represent. As I could not help ad^ 
miring the celerity and freedom of his hand, 
one may suppose, that he could have done better^ 
but preferred gain to reputation. The defects 
I mention would not appear in the prints. 

In respect to Moorish architecture, I know 
not what he has represented, or what he may 
have seen, but nothing /have seen will bear a 
comparison with Greek and E.oman architecture^ 
Yet, I will not deny that some of the Moorish 
buildings are elegant; in which class I reckoii 
a Moorish mosque at Buhnares; but such speci- 
mens are not common. After all, I am con- 
fident you have been more pleased with the 
drawings, than you would have been with the 
originals. The pencil, in many instances. 



[ 221 ] 

iJurpasses nature ; and I know of nothing else 
that does. If you were to draw a little cottage 
with some few trees about it, and, at a distance, 
the owner returning from his labours, passing by 
a cow grazing, and a few sheep feeding, I should 
dwell longer, and with more pleasure, on the 
copy than the prototype. This is a fact which 
I am unable to account for; at the same time it 
must be acknowledged, that no painter could 
even approximate the beauties of the sun setting 
in the ocean, crowned with a gilded canopy of 
such varied tints, as fascinate the eye to the 
object. Why is a painter so much inferior in 
one part of his art, and so superior in the other? 
I, who am no artist, cannot answer the question* 
Mrs, , who is one, and eminently distin- 
guished as such, possibly may. After all, 
l^owever, you are so much better qualified than 
myself to judge of Mr. Hodges's merit as a 
painter, as to render all I might say on the 
merits of his pictures perfectly useless; but, 
in respect to his biographical talents, I shall 
not be equally reserved. How can it be sup- 
posed, that any man, after a residence of two 
or three years only in the country, and not 
understanding a word of the language, should 
be capable of describing, with justness, the 
character of its inhabitants ; and particularly 
as the pencil was scarcely ever out of his band? 



[ 222 ] 

I clo not tbink it possible to form an idea of at 
people, without possessing tbe means of con- 
versing with them freely. In such a state, 
confidence will be wanting ; and without con- 
fidence the character to be drawn will always 
be exhibited in disguise. What Mr. H. says of 
the loving wives of the Hindoos burning them- 
selves with their husbands is true, but not 
common ; nor is it so much to be wondered at 
in very high-minded persons, who live with 
every possible mark of disgrace, if they survive 
them. But I cannot subscribe to his character 
of Hindoo gentleness and simplicity. The 
ladies, of any rank or fashion, among them, are 
all kept out of sight; and such as become 
widows, in general, burn with a less pure flame 
tha^n he describes, and are very dexterous in 
their intrigues. The lower class of women are 
the most violent scolds I have ever known; far 
exceeding any thing that Billinsgate produces < 
and the lower ranks of men are furious, but their 
fury is the fury of cowards. The men of 
fashion, whether Hindoos or Mussulmen, are 
extremely polite and well-bred; far excelling 
us in their manners, if we except the first class 
of polite people in England. But, whatever 
their vices or virtues may be, I always behold 
them with tenderness, as a people who have felt 
the rod of oppression, which must ever stifle 



[ 22a ] 

great virtues. Such of them, however, who 
have taken to arms, have afforded many illus- 
trious examples of heroism ; I may say, uncom- 
mon ones, such as we should be puzzled to 
match. You will be pleased to observe, I have 
spoken only of Bengal Hindoos; those of the 
Decan, passing under the name of Gentoos, 
are, even at this time, a much better people, 
and, forty years ago, were the most virtuous 
people upon the face of the earth. Returning 
to them in 1772, after an absence of twenty 
years, I found them deplorably changed for th© 
Worse; partly from necessity, and partly from 
a more intimate commerce with the English 
and French. But I have gabbled too long on 
this subject; and though twenty others rise 
naturally out of it, I will do violence to my own 
inclinations, rather than tire out your patience 
by my garrulity. 

Adieu, then, my dear friend, and believe me. 

Your affectionate humble servant. 



[ 2U ] 



LETTER LIV. 

From Joseph Fowke, Esq. 

Malmeshurij, Septi 11, 11(97^ 

MY DEAR i^RIEND, 

ACCOMPANYING this you will re- 
ceive the ear trumpet you did me the honour to 
commission me to provide. I most sincerely 
wish you may never be forced upon the use of 
it. No terms can be found adequate to the 
miseries attendant upon the loss of hearing. In 
society, the sharpest of all human afflictions 
become tolerable. The wretch chained to the 
oar for life, feels relief from the animating con- 
solations of his fellow-sufferers ; and a prisoner 
in the Bastile has prolonged his life by an 
association with a spider. But the social prin- 
ciple, which is clearly the first and governing 
one of our lives, is totally destroyed by deafness. 
The deaf man can make no new friends ; and 
his old ones will forsake, because they cannot 
help, him; and the benevolent and tender-hearted 
will drop a tear, and retire. The busy and the 
gay will say, " he is off," and pass on to their 
amusements without difficulty. What happi- 
ness, then, shall be found for the man cut off 



[ 225 1 

from the society of mankind ? There is only 
one left for him, which is, to relieve, to the 
utmost of his ability, those objects of deep 
distress which will constantly fall in his way ; 
and their grateful effusions are likely to make 
full amends for all his own wants. 

Upon your recommendation, the Femde 
Mentor has obtained a place in my library. 
The work has a great deal of merit, and has 
afforded me and others much entertainment in 
the reading'. The well-imagined and happily- 
executed drawing you were so obliging to pre- 
sent me with, and for which I return you my 
best thanks, has been bound up in its proper 
plac€. There is another performance of yours, 
which I wish you would have engraved ; it 
deserves to outlive you. It is the visit of a 
miser to his cash-chest, with a lighted candle 
in his hand, which, Jlarmgy happily divides his 
concern between that and the cash-chest. The 
cash-chest was secured, but the candle is wasting! 
Farewell! and believe me, in truth and 
sincerity. 

Yours, &c. 

JOSEPH FOWKE. 



[ 226 ] 

LETTER LV. 

From J osuLvnFowKE,, Esq; to ^*** 

Malmeshury, Nov. 20, 1797. 

MY DEAR FRIEND, 

IT was not my intention to have an- 
swered so soon your obliging letter of the 13th 
September last, had not I determined upon 
becoming an inhabitant of ****, in a few days ; 
where I shall for some time be busily oqcupied 
in providing myself with a house to suit me; 
by which I might incur the censure of neglect, 
in not giving you notice of my arrival, from 
my want of leisure to wait upon you. 

I have lived at this place, by the necessity of 
my circumstances, for abov0 eight months, with 
little other employment than counting thp 
pebbles under my feet — -nearly separated froi^i 
all mankind, I wished a thousand times for 
your happy turn to solitpde, but in vain : we are 
all impelled by the bent of our natures, and to 
that we must submit. My disposition leads me 
to company ; and now I cannot hear, I am 
happy to see people's lips move, though I cannot 
distinguish a word, or even hear a sound. For 
several days past I have been so deaf as to be ij 
able to converse with one person only -, and that 



[ 227 ] 

with difficulty, and by the help of ^n ear- 
trumpet. It would be unreasonable in me, 
labouring under such great infirmities, to expect 
any atiientions from a busy and interested 
world. The inost I can hope for is to be in- 
dulged in half an hour's conversation three or 
four times in a year ; so that you see, instead of 
breaking" in upon your private hours with ****, 
devoted to the affairs of this world, I will not 
promise that you will have as much of my com- 
pany as you might partially incline to favour me 
with. But this I faithfully promise, that you 
shall have as little of it, and as seldom, as you 
please ; I will allow you, for old acquaintance 
sake, to lay the most rigid commands on me, 
which I shall painfully comply with, without 
diminishing one tittle of the respect I have for 
your character. Frequent removals do not 
agree with old age; but I must submit myself 
tp the evil of necessity, which reconciles us to 
^very thing. 

Adieu, and believe me ever 

Your sincere friend, 

JOSEPH FOWKE. 



a2 



[ 228 ] 
Mrs. MONTAGUE 



The following particulars relating to tliis accom- 
plished female, alike remarkable for natural talent, 
acquired information, and uncommon benevolence, 
(whose praise will live long in her works, but longer 
in the remembrance of her compassion to a degraded 
and oppressed set of human beings, — 'Chimney-sweepers* 
Apprentices,) are extracted from " Nichols's Literary 
*^ Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century^ ix wis. Svo. ;" 
in which the venerable, learned, and very respectable 
author, from his own immense stores of information, 
and the large and diversified communications of intel- 
ligent friends, has poured forth such a flood of literary 
and biographical anecdote, as is not to be equalled, for 
variety and interest, by any work in the English language. 

" Mrs. Montague's father was grandson of Sir Leo- 
" nard Robinson, youngest son of Tho. Robinson, esq; of 
*' Rokeby, in Yorkshire. Her mother, Elizabeth Drake, 
*^ was a Cambridge heiress; and during her residence in 
'^* thatcounty, Mrs. Montague, then. Miss Robinson, deri- 
" ved great assistance, in her education, from Dr.Middlc- 
'* ton, author of * The Life of Cicero,' whom her maternal 
" grandmother had taken as a second husband. Her 
" extraordinary talents, as well as beauty, appeared from 
*' her earliest childhood. At this period she formed an 
*V intimacy with Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley, who, 
'• in 1734, married the late Duke of Portland. This 
'• w^as cemented by her frequent visits to Wimpole in 
*' Cambridgeshire, then the teat of Lord Oxford. Her 
•' letterti to this correspondcnijwhich v^ ere preserved from 
*^ hertweltlh year, shew her astonibhing prematurity of 



[ 229 ] 

^' wit and language. Her ' Essay on the Writings and 
*^ Genius of Shakespeare,^ in answer to the frivolous 
" objedions of Voltaire, must rank with the best illus- 
" trations of oui* great English poet. The work is not 
*' an elaborate exposition of obscure passages, but a 
*' comprehensive survey of the sublimity of his genius, 
** of his profound knowledge of human nature, and of 
" the wonderful resources of his imagination. But such 
" was the inimitable excellence of her letters, by which 
** she carried on an intercourse with a large portion of 
" the literati of her time, till the close of her long life, 
" that all agreed in intreating, that, on some future day, 
*' they might be published. Lord Lyttleton, and Lord 
*' Bath, in particular, her favourite friends, repeatedly 
*^ urged it, as considering that the}' exhibit the fertility 
*' and versatility of her powers of understanding, and 
" the excellence of her disposition, in a more complete 
" manner than any other species of composition. The 
" same request was made by Dr. Young, Mr. Gilbert 
•' West, Lord Chatham, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Stillingfleet, 
*' Lord Kaimes, Dr. Beattie, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. 
" Burke, ^Irs. Carter, and Mrs. Vesey. Two volumes of 
*' her early letters were published b}^ her nephew, and 
*' executor, Matthew Montague, esq; M. P. in 1809, 
*' which were followed by two more in 1813. ''But 
*' when it is found," says her editor, " in the future 
*' remaining volumes, that she became, in her middle 
** age, as remarkable for discretion of conduct, and 
" propriety of demeanour, as she bad been, in her child- 
." hood and youth, for vivacity and sprightliness, the 
"progress of her disposition will appear to be no less 
*' interesting, than the improvement of her taste, and 
** the enlargement of her faculties. Sbe was an exem- 
'* plary wife to a man much older than herself, and 
** proved herself worthy to be the bosojn friend of a 



[ 55ao ] 

^* husband, wliose strict honour and integrity as a geri-» 
" tleman, and a Member of Parliament, were not less 
•* conspicuous, than his unwearied diligence, and de'ep 
" research, as a man of science. We shall find her to 
** be the most approved friend of the wisest and best 
" men of her age, as well as the most admired compa- 
" nion of the wittiest. Her conversation was sought 
** by all who were distinguished for learning, for polite- 
*' ness, or for any of the qualities which give lustre, or 
" dignity, or influence. The scholar and the statesman 
" were alike desirous of her society ; and she was so 
" fortunate, as to acquire the esteem and attachment of 
*^ some men who united both characters. She was 
" permitted to entwine her myrtle with the bays of the 
" poet ; to share the cOunsds of the politician ; and to 
** estimate the works of the historian, the critic, and 
" the orator. She subdued her propensity to satire J 
" and if her wit was so abundant by nature, as to be in- 
" extinguishable, she found means to temper its lustre, 
" that it should no longer dazzle by its brightness, or 
*' excite apprehension of a mischievous consequence. 
*' In her youth, her beauty was most admired in the 
^* peculiar animation and expression df her blue eyes, 
*' with high, arched, dark eyebVows, and in the con- 
** trast of her brilliant complexion with her dark brown 
*' hair. She was of the middle stature, and stopped » 
*' little, which gave an air of modesty to her counte- 
*^ nance, in which the features were, otherwise, so 
" strongly marked, as to express an elevation of senti- 
*' ment befitting the most exalted condition. As she 
*' advanced in age, her appearance was distinguished 
*' by that superiority of demeanour, which is acquired 
" by the habit of intercourse with persons of cultivated 
" talents, and polished manners. Her very look be- 
*' spoke the fire of genius, arising from strength of taste, 



[ 231 ] 

" and solidity oi" judgment. If to these (Qualification's 
" we add the soundness of principle, the tenderness of 
*' benevolence, and the calm piety of her latter years, 
" we shall behold a picture of an individual, who might 
" be justly terrried an ornament to her sex and country. 
" Mrs. Montague left her estate to her nephew, Matthew 
" Robinson, who had, by her desire, taken the name of 
*' Montague, and is younger brother to the present 
" Lord Rokeby." 



LETTER LVt 



From Mrs. Montague to Mrs, M. HarI'LEY, 

DEAR MADAM, February 2Sth, 1787. 

HE second volume of Euripides, which 



T 



set out this morning, would have waited 
On you much sooner, had I not retained it, out of 
a vain expectation, that I might make it serve 
me as an excuse to indulge myself in the plea- 
sure of accompanying it with a letter ; but my 
eyes have been so inflamed ever since I came 
to London, as to make me incapable of writing: 
they are to-day a little better, but will only 
assist me to express my wish that the book may 
not seem unworthy your attention. As no one 
is so ready as yourself to relieve real misery and 



[ 232 ] 

present distress, so, I believe, no one will more 
tenderly sympathize with well-invented fiction^ 
and the affliction of those who lived in ages 
past. I can never agree with our great Shake- 
speare, when he makes Hamlet say, ** What's 
" Hecuba to me? or I to Hecuba ?" for though 
one may not be a queen or a mother, or in the 
tank and situation of the person in the drama ; 
yet we are all the children of sorrow, and feel 
the like emotions, though excited by different 
occasions and events. You, Madam, who have 
a mind so exalted, that it cannot be oppressed 
by your personal sufferings, most sensibly feei 
the miseries ov misfortunes of others. 

I beg of you to do me the honour to present 
my respects to Mrs. Bowdler and Miss H. as 
well as to Mr. G., by whose elegant drawings I 
am enabled to make the best advantage of the 
fine feathers that you and many of my friends 
have bestowed upon me. 

With perfect esteem, I am, dear Madam, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

E, MONTAGUE. 



[ 233 ] 

LETTER LVII. 
From 3Irs. M. Hartley to ****. 

September, 1800. 
TO you, my dear friend, the 
death of Mrs. Montagueniiist be a grief, as well 
as great loss; for you were in a situation to 
enjoy her friendship and society. 

When I read the article in the papers, it gave 
me an instant feeling of regret that I should 
never see her more; but when I began to con- 
sider the great improbability, that (if she had 
lived) we should ever have met again; I per- 
ceived that I ought only to think of the event as 
it had a reference to her. With regard to this life, 
she had passed through the best of her days; those 
which were approaching must have been gloomy 
and oppressive ; and when tlie feast of life is 
completed, happy are those who retire, before 
the dregs are drawn oiF. Age and infirmities, 
like any other evils, must be endured with 
patience, if it please God to prolong life; but 
if he think fit to take a virtuous person to an 
earlier rest, it is a happy escape from pain and 
sorrow. Yet these are considerations of small 
importance, in comparison of the state into 
which the spirit shall pass after it is severed 
from its mortal clay. If that be happy, how 
infinitely would be the gain, although taken from 



[ 234 ] 

the higlifest pinnacle of youth arid prosperity ! 
If miserable, how poor a reprieve would be the 
longest period that ever was given to human 
life ! The escape, therefore, from future misery, 
and the adttiission to future happiness, is ihe only 
object which can engage a wise man's wishes 
and endeavours. The period of life and the 
manner of death, we must leave to Providence: 

** Nor lore thy life, nor hate j but wh^t thou Hv'st, 
*' Lire wellj how long or short, submit to Heav'n." 

As my intercourse with Mrs. Montague was 
never very intimate, I knew more of her inteU 
lectual abilities, than of her virtues. It was 
impossible to be in her company for an hour, 
without perceiving the superiority of her genius?^; 
the brilliancy of her wit; the elegance of her 
taste, (I mean in literature, not in dress); the 
extent of her information; and the engaging, 
polite, and easy style of her address. Never 
have I been more entertained and delighted, 
than with her conversation, wheni she has beeii 
so kind to visit me; and never was she more 
3prightly and brilliant, or more kind and enga- 
ging, than in the last visit she made me; I shall 
remember the entertainment of that pleasant 
hour as long as I live ; and likewise her friendly 
expressions of regard to me, which arose from 
her friendship for my father and mother, the 
most delightful claim I could possibly have. 



[ 2S5 i 

k\\ these circumstances endear lierniemdry tome ; 
but, as I said before, those who knew her more 
intimately than I did, knew more of her vir^ 
tues. I have heard of them in the highest stile 
of praise, and I conceive that the loss of he^ 
munificence to the numbers whom she relieved, 
will be a lamentable privation ; but I hope she 
has remembered, in her will, those who were 
dependent upon her bounty while she lived. 

I wish you and our young friend could have 
heard a sermon that was preached here the 
other day, upon that text in the Psalms: " Where- 
** withal shall a young man cleanse his way? 
** Even by ruling himself after thy word." 

A more impressive and a more affectingr 
discourse I have seldom heard, and one stroke 
of it plea;sed me particularly. The preacher 
expatiated somewhat at length on the delight 
which a parent must feel on seeing his children 
turn out well ; but when he came to paint thei 
anxiety and misety of those, whose children, 
disappoint all their hopes, he stopped shorty 
and said, that " he must leave such distress of 
*^ mind to the imagination ef his hearers, for it 
*^ was far beyond his power to describe,'' This 
was truly classical, eloquent, and affecting. 

Yours, with sincerity and affection, 

M. H. 



[ 236 1 
THE REV. DR. JEANS. 



THE amiable, learned, and very ingenious writer 
of the two following letters, was a native of Christ- 
church in Hampshire, and born in the year 1757. He 
was educated at Winchester College; where he became 
distinguished for his general talents, classical taste, arid 
rapid proficiency in elegant literature; and, on his( 
leaving that seminary, matriculated, at Qireen's College, 
Oxford. Some time after he had taken orders, he was 
presented to the living of Dibden, in Hampshire ; 
which he subsequently exchanged for that of Sheviock, 
in the county of Cornwall. Having received the most 
flattering invitations from the late Henry Hope, and 
isome other highly respectable inhabitantsof Amsterdam, 
he went to that city with his family, and settled there as 
minister of the English Episcopal Church for some 
years. The term of his engagement there being ex- 
pired, he returned to England, with an intention of 
residing in future on his preferment ; but so deservedly 
popular had he rendered himself in Holland, by his 
splendid professional talents, his amiable manners^ 
liberal and conciliating sentiments, and social and 
domestic vjrtues, that his congregation there used the^ 
most earnest entreaties to induce him to go back to 
them, and resume the charge of bis fiock for another 
term of three years. Unfortunately, he complied with 
their request ; but had not been long occupied in this, 
second engagement, before he fell a victim to the 
autumnal fever of the country, and died the 5th of 
October, 1807, at the age of fifty years. Dr. Jeans' 
style of preaching was peculiarly animated, energetic, 



[ 237 ] 

and impressive; and his reading ^ full of feeling, force, 
and dignity. His compositions were numerous, all 
characterized hy taste, elegance, and eloquence. It 
IS much to be regretted, that the public does not enjoy 
any of the productions of his fine genius, and varied 
acquirements. His poetical talents may be appreciated 
from the following little sonnet, which he addressed to 
an amiable young lady^ who was afflicted with an 
almost general palsy. 

To Miss Maria Elizabeth Guicherit* 

Meek suft'rer, patient monument of pain, 
Whose mind, though pent within a living tomb. 
Can smile at grief — Mild maid, accept the strain 
A pitying stranger sends to soothe thy gloom. 
But vain the Muse's wreath ! A brighter palm 
Is thine — the Martjn's crown ! A higher Pow'r 
O'er all thy sorrows sheds his healing balm. 
And whispers comfort at thy midnight hour. 
Would heedless beauty learn how frail her frame; 
See here the lifeless limb, the withering form ! 
In early youth the fell destroyer came, 
Maria bow'd submissive to the storm ! 
Tranquil she bears aiRidion's heaviest load. 
And Resignation slopes her way to God. 

It may be interesting to remark, that Dr. Jeans was, 
in a high decree, what is usually called " lucky," in the 
minor circumstances of life. As examples of this sub- 
ordinate good fortune, we may select, from many other 
instances, the two following circumstances. When a 
student at Oxford, he had received a bank-bill to settle 
his college account before a vacation. This he put 
loose into his pocket, and took a walk in Chrjst- 
church meadow. As he was crossing this extensive 



[ 238 3 

piece of ground, he met with a fellow- collegian, witk 
whom he entered into conversation. Mr. J^ans was 
peculiarly anifP^ted ; ^nd, during the debate, he un- 
consciously rolled up his note into the size of a 
green pea, and shot it from his finger anii thumb, 
into the midst of the grps. The friends having 
parted, Mr. Jean^ went into the town to discharge 
some bills ; but on searching for his note, he dis- 
covered that it was gone. He went to his rooms, 
ransacked his escrutoire, table.drawer, pockets, and 
whatever he |:hoijght might contain the treasure; but 
all iq vain. At length it crossed his recollection, that 
he had been talking in the middle of Christchurcb 
raeadoW; and, while there, bad thrown something away. 
This might have been the note. It was, at all events, 
the dernier resort ; and he posted to the meadow. 
The grass was long, the area wide. He hfid scarcely, 
however, reached the middle of the field, before he 
descried the object of which he was in search ; htpt re- 
duced to so small a size, by compression and twj^tin^^ 
that it would probably have escaped every eye, but the 
sharp and clear-sighted one which was iq search of it. 
Shortly after Mr. Jeans had taken possession of his 
rectorial house at Dibden, having received a banlc-note 
of some considerable value, he deposited it, as he con- 
ceived, where it might be safe till wanted, and easily 
found when occasion called for it. The occasion soon 
arrived; but the place where it had been bestowed was 
forgotten, A general search was made, but without 
the desired success^ and the note was given up as ab* 
solutely lost. Some years afterwards, a travelling Jew 
called at Dibden rectory, He was a learned Rabbi; and 
Mr. Jeans entered into an interesting discussion with 
him, respecting some points of Hebrew literature. 
A difference of opinion arose, and to settle the matter 



[ 239 ] 

in debate, Mr. Jeans reached down a Hebrew Lexicon. 
He opened it par hazard , and, behold, the first object 
which met his eye in the expanded page, was the very 
note whose loss had occasioned him so much trouble 
and anxiety so long ago. The " good luck" of the 
discovery was much enhanced by the prize being pecu- 
liarly acceptable at the time when it was found. 

The following account of the dreadful catastrophe, 
mentioned in Dr. Jeans's second letter, is extracted from 
the Fifth Number of the Edinburglv Magazine for 
August 1817:— 

" In the same church (St. Peter's) lie the remains of 
f^ Gerard de Meerman, a well-known biographer. This 
'* man died of fright, in consequence of the explosion 
<' which took place here on the 12th of January, 1807. 
f A French vessel from Amsterdam, for Delft, lying in 
f' the canal Van Reppenberg, in the centre of the city^, 
<' laden with ten thousand pounds weight of gunpowder, 
'^ blew up about five o'clock in the afternoon, killed 
." some hundreds of the inhabitants, destroyed great part 
" of the jtown, TUid produced the utmost havoc and con- 
." sternation. My servant told me, he heard the noise 
** at Amsterdam, two-and- twenty miles off. Many of 
" the inhabitants were sitting at dinner, and perished 
i^ among the ruins of their dwellings, with their wive* 
" and families. A Jewish school suffered considerably . 
" sixteen of the children were blown up. A charity 
i^ school near it was also destroyed, with ail its inmates. 
*' Fifty children at a boarding-school narrowly escaped, 
" by the collision of two walls, which supported the 
" roof; only two of the children were crushed to death, 
" and a third perished with fright in its father's arms. 
" Those who were saved rushed into the Court-yard, 
" and the meeting there of parents and children is 
f' described to have been terrible. The windows of 



' [ 240 3 

*< my bed-room command a view of this very spot, and 
''of what I at first thought a fine park, with a canal, 
** and trees, and pleasant walks. I did not then know 
*' that this was where the explosion had taken place, 
" and that at one period it was the most populous part 
" of the city. By this awful catastrophe several streets 
** were annihilated, and Professor Meerman, with 
*' many others, died of fright. After the explosion, 
<' the town was discovered to be on fire in different 
*' places. It must, indeed, have been a tremendous 
'* night." 



LETTER LVIir. 



From the Rev. Joshua Jeans to *** 
DEAR R, Dibden, Feb. 18, 1788. 

'W AM very much obliged to you for your two 
-"• letters, particularly your last; and I think 
myself honoured by the confidence which yott 
place in my judgment. I am, however, infi- 
nitely more pleased at the satisfaction you ex- 
press in beginning your theological campaign, 
than with any compliment paid to myself. The 
apprehension of being considered either as a 
hypocrite or an enthusiast would, perhaps, have 
prevented me from urging, in a strong manner, 
those sentiments which your letter expresses, 



[ 241 ] • 

Or from exhorting you to such a course of study 
as you are now pursuing*; much more from insist- 
ing on any of those secret pleasures which you 
ah^eacly begin to feel, and which always must 
attend the Biblical student, if he be really in 
earnest in his research after the truth. But, 
since you seem so delighted with the interesting 
prospect before you, let me entreat you, by all 
your hopes of peace and happiness, not to suffer 
your present ardour to cooL Remember, it is 
no uncommon stake for which you are contend- 
ing'. You begin to see that our religion is not 
the forged tales of priests and politicians, to 
keep the world in awe. As you advance, the 
great scheme will gradually unfold itself to your 
enlightened mind; and will appear to be har- 
monious and consistent, at least, as far as it is 
proper, or, perhaps, possible, for so mysterious 
a dispensation to appear to our narrow compre^ 
hensions. 

If I thought myself capable of lending you 
assistance, I would not be a miser of my know- 
ledge ; but you need no such aid as mine. Your 
own good sense, and the opportunities you will 
soon have of getting access to well-informed 
men, will place you far above any little instruc- 
tion of so obscure a man as I am, who have 
neither the advantage of conversing with 
scholars, nor of reading the best authors. 



* I: 24^ ] 

All the books you mention are proper. Let 
me advise you, however, to begin with the 
beginning. Don't pkmge too deep at once, but 
proceed consistently and leisurely ; and, above 
all things, avoid the polemical writers. Read 
the Old Testament first, particularly the Pen- 
tateuch and the Prophets; and do not fail to 
getPere Lamey's Apparatus Biblicus, translated 
by Bundy^ 2 vols. 8vo. For reading the Pro- 
phets, read Lowth's Isaiah, and Blaney's Je- 
remiah, comparing them with the old version. 
Hopkins has, also, given a new translation of 
Exodus, but I do not know the merit of the 
book. Before you begin with Prideaux, go 
through Shuckford's 3 vols, of his Connexion: 
this is a necessary introduction to the Dean's 
excellent work. 

Whether or not any writer has filled up the 
vacancy in the Connexion of Sacred and Pro- 
fane History, from the period where Shuck- 
ford concludes his third volume, to that where 
Prideaux begins his work, I cannot say, and 
wish you to enquire. 

Do not let those bewitching writers, Cribbon 
and Hume, give you a distaste to the homely 
language of Bundy and Shuckford. I need 
not guard you against the poison of these ser- 
pents. Whilst you read them, remember 

Incedis per ignes suppositos cineri doloso. 



t 243 ] 

If yoii have fixed on no particular book to fill 
4ip a Sunday's evening, I will venture to re- 
commend Hurd's Twelve Sermons, introductory 
to the study of the prophecies. 

Wishing you courage and success in your 
Studied, I remain, 

Your sincere friend, 

JOSHUA JEANS 



LETTER LIX. 
From the Rev, Dr, Jeans lo **** 

MY DEAR SIR, Rotterdam, Jan. 30, 1807^ 

HAVING been obliged to absent 
inyself from your hospitable board on Thursday, 
I will endeavour to make some amends for my 
breach of good mantiers, by giving you a few 
particulars of the late catastrophe at Leyden.* 
If I may judge from what I myself have heard, 
many inaccurate accounts are in circulation. 1 
shall now tell you the result of my own obser- 
vations, and relate some things which 1 received 

* Supposed to have been occasioned by the carelessness of 
placing a lighted candle on one of thp barrels of gunpowder* 

R 2 



I 244 ] 

from authentic sources. From what I saw 
yesterday, I imagine that full five hundretl 
houses are already destroyed, or must come 
down, and that double this number are ma- 
terially injured. But this is my own conjecture; 
and all that has been hitherto reported on this 
head is only conjecture, for the full extent of 
the mischief cannot be ascertained, even yet. 

Mr. Van N., who must be as competent a 
judge as anyman, told me he could form no guess 
at the loss of either property or houses. Nor is 
the number of the dead exactly ascertained. A 
hundred and thirty is, perhaps, the utmost. If 
my calculation be tolerably correct, nearly one 
tenth part of the city may be said to be de- 
stroyed, for the number of houses in Leyden 
must be estimated at about ten thousand. It 
was natural for people to exaggerate on such an 
occasion. Popular description always heightens 
calamity. The lives that are lost do not exceed 
one-fifth part of what was originally reported. 
We were told, again and again, that every house 
in Leyden had suffered. If a few broken 
windows be excepted, I will venture to say that 
more than a fourth part of the town is totally 
uninjured. Still, however, the calamity is 
prodigieuSj and the loss is irreparable. But 
real truth will always, in the end, succeed 
better than extravagant exaggerations. For 



[ 245 ] 

wlien the public knows that the misfortune 
is much less than was represented, it will lose 
a great deal of its sympathy ; whereas, a contra- 
ry proceeding" would produce exactly a contrary 
effect. Dead bodies are still dug out. Four 
have been found this week. We (I mean 
myself, conducted by Mr. Van N.) visited the 
vault in St. Peter's church, where the corpses of 
unknown persons are deposited. The coffins 
were not numerous. The superstructure of this 
fine pile, which you may remember we con- 
templated with so much pleasure three summers 
back, is sadly mutilated, but the foundations 
are secure. The walls are cracked in several 
places; the windows destroyed; the vaulted roof 
rent from east to west ; and some of the larger 
grave-stones are moved from their places. 
Boerhaave's bust, and the other modern monu- 
ments, are safe, and are now covered over with 
wooden frames. The inside of this church 
exhibits a striking spectacle, aud gives a tole- 
rable specimen of the general confusion of the 
city. The whole pavement strewed with massy 
fragments of stone, wood, iron, and lead; the 
yawning vault in the nave left open for the recep- 
tion of dead bodies; large masses of shattered 
ornaments in every quarter; the spacious Gothic 
windows, most of them without glass or stone- 
work; all the ramifications either gone or broken; 



[ 246 3 

the ceiling rent from one end to the other; the 
massy walls cracked; and the whole edifice 
filled with the ladders and scaffolds of masons, 
glaziers, and carpenters, all employed in repair- 
ing the mischief ! St. Pancrass, the Hooglandike 
kirk, which stands near the Burgt, is in the 
same mutilated state. Indeed, I wjts so much 
puzzled with the quick succession of objects, 
that I am not clear whether I have not con- 
founded this church with St. Peter's. But they 
both tell the same tale of destruction, and display 
nearly the same picture of desolation. Contem- 
plating the prodigious havoc which had been 
made in one moment, and seeing the eagerness 
and bustle of a multitude of workmen, collected 
from all quarters of the province ; some hang- 
ing in the air repairing the windows, or the 
vaulted roofs ; others making mortar, plaining 
boards, &c. 8cc.&c., I could not help comparing 
the industry of these bustling mortals to the 
toil of emmets, patiently repairing the ruins of 
their colony, when the gigantic foot of either man 
or beast has suddenly destroyed their little- city^ 
and crushed half their community. When the 
explosion happened, Mr. Yan N. (as a ma- 
gistrate) was called on to superintend the search 
after the bodies of the poor creatures who were 
buried in the ruins, as well as to guard their pro- 
perty from plundero The description he gave 



[ 247 ] 

of this memorable night was awfully interesting. 
About twelve o'clock it was a dead calm. The 
sky was overcast with dark thmider clouds, and 
wore a sullen aspect. The gleams of the nume- 
rous torches gliding here and there, gilding 
the broken ruins ; the flames which burst out 
in different directions from the unextinguished 
fires in the houses; faint flashes of lightning, 
accompanied by the deep mutter of distant 
thunder; the 4ioarse voices of the guards inter- 
rogating passengers; and, above all, the hollow 
groans, and feeble calls, of the unhappy sufferers, 
immured in the ruins, with the shriller notes of 
grief from distracted relations, who were listen- 
ing in agony to their cries, mingled with the 
still more distant sounds of sorrow from the 
crowds which thronged the adjacent streets and 
houses, impatient to hear tidings of their friends; 
all together—the hour — the darkness —the tra- 
gical event-^-^the solemn accompaniments — the 
various tones of lamentation, interrupted every 
moment, by the clattering of tiles, the fall of chim- 
nies, and the thundering crash of the roofs of the 
houses — formed such a combination of affecting 
and terrifying circumstances, as could not but 
convey a complete idea of sublime horror! 

My poor hostess, the Widow Cramer, who 
kept the Golden Lion, is amongst those unfor- 
tunate sufferers, who have lost their all ! 



[ 248 ] 

When Mynheer B***, the well-known na- 
turalist, returned home from the Hague after 
the catastrophe ; upon the first intelligence of it, 
he flew to his own dwelling", full of dread and 
apprehension; where, horrible to relate, the first 
object that met his sight was the severed, mu- 
tilated arm of his wife, which he recognized 
by the rings on her fingers ! For a moment he 
gazed on it in silent agony ; then snatching 
up the mangled limb, the only remains of the 
lovely being he had so lately left, and so ten- 
derly loved, he pressed it to his throbbing bosom, 
and, wild with grief, hurried from the fatal 
spot ! ! ! 

It has been said, that the bottom of the Gragt, 
immediately under the powder vessel, is of un- 
fathomable depth. This may be exaggerated, 
amongst other silly tales. Perhaps it may be 
somewhat deeper than before. The bank of the 
canal, where the vessel lay, is forced in nearly 
|;hree feet, and of course the Gragt is widened, 

I am, dear Sir, 

Very sincerely yours, 

J. JEANS. 



[ 249 ] 



THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. 



Mr. Newton, who died a few years ago, has left us 
a recorded account of the early years of his life, writ- 
ten by himself, in a little work with the following title : 
" An authentic narrative of some remarkable and inte-? 
" resting particulars in the Life of *** **#*^ comrau- 
" cated, in a series of letters, to the Rev. Mr. Haweis* 
"rector of Aldwincle, Northamptonshire; and bj 
" him (at the request of friends) now made public. 
" London, printed by John Baynes, 54, Pater-noster- 
" row." The narrative commences with his birth, and 
is carried on till his conversion ; and, it must be con- 
fessed, that (as we learn from his own account) his 
early years exhibited such a tissue of worthlessnessand 
profligacy, as rendered his change to religion and virtue 
a remarkable instance of the goodness and mercy of 
God. It may well be doubted, however, whether such 
public representations of depravity of heart, and per- 
sonal vice, can, in general, further the interests of piety 
and morality. It was the practice of the barbarous 
Lacaedemonians, alone, to exhibit their slaves in a state 
of drunkenness, in order to deter their children from 
the degrading sin of intoxication. 

Mr. Newton lived to a very advanced age, in the 
zealous exercise of his professional duties^ and in the 
exemplary fulfilment of every personal virtue; and died, 
&few years since, much respected and esteemed. 



[ 250 J 



I^ETTER LX. 

From the Rev, John Newton to Captain 
and Mrs, Hansard. 

London, May 17-^. 

MY BEAU FRIENDS, 

T Know not when I wrote, nor have I your 
-■- letter before me ; 1 am persuaded that I could 
not omit my congratulations on the birth of 
your son, ( who I hope is living and thriving ;) 
I am therefore willing to think that you are in 
my debt. However, as I wish to send you the 
enclosed, and want to hear of you, I write again; 
and if I have written to you before, you may be 
revenged by sending me two letters for one ; 
they will always be welcome. 

You are proper persons to receive my Ebe- 
nezer, You were acquainted with my dear one, 
and are better qualified, for that reason, to form 
some due estimate of my loss ; and further, the 
time will come, though I hope it is yet far 
distant, when one or the other of you will pro- 
bably be in my situation ; for it seldom happens 
that both are called home on the same day. 
But blessed be the Lord, who enables me to 
confirm to you, from my own experience, all 



[ 151 3 

that you have ever heard or read of his all- 
sufficiency. Though I had often grieved his 
Holy Spirit by my idolatry and folly, yet when 
I was brought low, He helped me^ He rebuked 
me for my sins ; but He upheld me with his 
gracious arm, enabled me to bow to his will, 
and to kiss his|rod. I was indeed sharply tried, 
and in a point where my feelings were most 
sensible and ez^quisite. 1 have a lively remem- 
brance of what she was, when He first gave her 
to me, and of what she was before He took her 
quite away. Ah ! what a change ! But He 
spared her to me more than forty years, though 
I had deserved to forfeit her every day. I had 
a painful part of observation, darker every day 
for more than six months; but I was upheld. 
I would not go over the same ground again for 
the treasure of both the Indies. Bat I can say, 
He has done all well. 

I love my friends. I loved Mr. and Mrs. B., 
Miss P., and my own Eliza ; I felt keenly when 
fhey were removed : but I still had one left, 
that seemed to make amends for all ! The will 
of the Lord was declared by the event, and I 
acquiesced ; but how often have I thought, if 
she should be taken from me, though his grace 
might enable my spirit to submit, the flesh must 
sink under the blow, and I should never wear a 
cheerful look again. Yet He hr.s been better 



[ 252 ] 

to me than my deserts or fears ; JJe helps me to 
do very tolerably without her. I still live in the 
same house, where every room, and every chair, 
seems to say, " she is not here !" I sleep in the 
bed where she long languished, and where I saw 
har draw her last breath ; and I have never felt 
a wish to change the scene. Though no object 
appears quile the same to me, and a sort of 
sombre cast hangs over them all, yet I can 
relish my many mercies, and smile and chat 
■with my friends as formerly. I know not that 
I am more or less affected than 1 was the first 
day after she left me. 

I write this for your encouragement. Ima- 
gination is a busy painter, and disposed at times 
to draw frightful pictures of what wi«?/ happen : 
but we may depend upon it, that nothing shall 
happen, to which His promises of strength, 
according to the day, and ** grace sufficient for 
** us," shall not render those who trust in Him 
fully equal. He chastens and tries us, not for 
his own pleasure, but for our profit, to make us 
partalers of his holiness; otherwise betakes no 
delight in our groans and tears, but rather in our 
prosperity, so far as he sees it safe for us; and 
even when it is necessary to put us into the 
furnace of afliiction, Ae sits by, like a refiner of 
silver, to watch the process, and to take us out 
when his merciful design in our favour is fully 
answered. 






i: 253 ] 

The distiince between my house and ****, 
and the limits of my time, would not permit me 
to visit you in person ; but I am often with you 
in spirit, and by Mr. ****'s description, I am 
helped to form some idea of your situation. 
How different from mine! You can walk a 
mile from your home, without being* stunned 
with noise, or shocked with wickedness ! You 
can view the sea, or the mountains, whenever 
you please. You are surrounded by the works 
of God, which speak powerfully, though with- 
out an audible voice, to the attentive mind. I 
am encompassed by men, the most of whom are 
serious about trifles, and trifling in the coneerns 
of most importance. Some bustling*, and some 
dancing, into death. " Oh ! that 1 had wings 
** like a dove,'' for then would I likewise some- 
times retire to the mountain, or stand on the 
sea shore ! But ?/ow are in your post, and / am 
in mine. In some things our situations agree : 
the same sun that shines in Wales, shines also 
upon us ; and the same " Sun of Righteousness" 
is equally near in all places. Local distance 
■may. separate bodies, but it cannot affect minds; 
and they who can meet at the same throne of 
grace, cannot be far asunder. Though I love 
the country, I may be thankful I live in London; 
for God makes me acceptable, and 1 hope use- 
ful, in my ministry. And your prospect froia 



r 254 ] 

the highest hill in yoar neighbourhood is not to 
be compared with mine from St. Mary^s pulpit 
on a Sunday. GOD has also blessed me with 
many friends, many endeared connexions; and 
therefore I need not envy you your mountains; 
for though I meet with riot and disorder in the 
streets, through mercy, we have love and peace 
at home. 

What a mountain is the heavenly Zion! 
Though we cannot see it with our bodily eyes, 
Jaith can realize the invisible hill, and tells us, 
that every day brings us nearer to it. Here we 
are but strangers and pilgrims. There we shall 
be at Jiome, No care or sorrow can reach us at 
that height. Then, surely, we shall say with St. 
Peter, *' it is good for us to be here." But we 
shall not, lil^e him, be constrained to come 
down again from that summit. 

We shall have a delightful review of all the 
way by which the Lord our God led us 
through this wilderness, and shall see, that 
mercy and goodness followed us through every 
step. May w^e now believe it! let us not credit 
the report of sense to the contrary ; faith, in-» 
structed by the scripture, says it is so, it must be 
so, it shall be so. 

My dear Bessy is well, and joins me in love. 
Heaven bless you and your children. 

I am your affectionate friend and servant, 

JOHN NEWTON. 



[ i'>5 3 



THE REV. CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 



For the particulars of Dr. Buchanan's life, cha- 
racter, and writings, we beg leave to refer our readers 
to a work recently published, entitled, " Memoirs of 
" the Life and Writings of the Rev, Claudius Buchanan^ 
*' late Vice-Provost of the College of Fort William^ in 
''Bengal:' By the Rev. Hugh Pearson, M.A. St. 
John's College, Oxford; a work which is evidently the 
production of a scholar, a gentleman, and a christian ; 
displaying a mind deeply embued with piety; a culti- 
vated taste; liberality of sentiment; and very consi- 
derable skill in elegant composition. 

Mr. Pearson was also the successful candidate for a 
Prize Essay, instituted by Dr. B. which is published 
under the following title, " A Dissertation on the Pro- 
" motion of Christianity in India ;" to Mhich is pre- 
fixed, *^ A brief Historic View of the Progress in 
" different NationSy since its first Promulgation ; illus' 
" trated by a Chronological Chart, 4to. I5s. in boards J^ 



[ 256 ] 

LETTER LXI. 
From JDr, Claud. Buchanan to ***, Escf. 



Queens College, Jan, 29th, 1799. 

*MJ is in College, He and sonie of his 
*^ • friends have been contributing to the 
relief of a sick distrest musician. I took the 
liberty of subscribing half a guinea for you. As 
the public subscriptions for the poor are liberally 
filled, I shall not trespass farther on your bounty. 
I sometimes take my gun out to the country, 
not to kill game, but to procure health. In 
my excursions I have an opportunity of seeing 
how the poor struggle against cold and hunger. 
Hovi^ you would value my opportunities! I 
entered a cottage yesterday morning. " Pray, 
"my good woman, why do your children lie 
•* in bed ? are they sick ?" *^ No, Sir, but they 
** have no fire to sit by, so I am obliged to make 
** them lie a-bed most part of the day." ** Pray, 
** good woman, have you got any thing for me 
** to eat ? I have walked a good way, and am 
*' very hungry." She looked embarrassed for 
a moment, and then burst into tears! 



f 25^ ] 

0, ye fellow commoners, who are in the 
habit, not of administering to each other's wants, 
but of contributing to each other's diseases and 
death, by five guinea suppers, how * * * * 
P. desires his compliments to you. Our 
subject next Tuesday evening- is emigration. 
P. is greatly improved. Our Monday evening 
is prorogued till the division, for want of mem- 
bers. It is rumoured, that your abilities for 
oratory are above mediocrity. I wish that you 
Would convince us that this is true, when next 
w^e see you. Is it true, that you have resolution 
to write a little every day? I could believe 
any thing of you, would you but return to those 
daily exercises of piety, which your conscience 
dictates. But till that hour comes, all your 
resolutions must prove temporary, and, there- 
fore, nugatory. My dear fellow, look around 
you. Is not your country falling ? Perhaps a 
new order of things is at hand. In any event, 
you may be called forth, to defend the old, or 
modify the new, system. Seek, therefore, piety 
as a man, eloquence as a citizen. Be not a man 
of pleasure, rolling down the stream of fashion, 
unheeded and unknown. Be magnanimous. 
Have the fortitude to speak what you think, in 
all places, and upon all occasions, when con- 
science suggests it. He who thinks that mag- 
ninxity consists in any thing less than despising 

s 



t «58 ] 

fashion, \V hen it interferes with duty, has nopfe^- 
tensions to this virtue. He may have many ether 
virtues, or rather semblance of virtue; but if he 
have not this, he is nothing. Most men who fight 
duels have not a spark of magnanimity, but are 
actuated by a base, cowardly fear. Tkis is no 
paradox to those who recollect how many false 
principles, pseudo virtues, and counterfeit feel- 
ings, ever encrust the slave of fashion, 

I court St. Cecilia a little, when my study of 
the modern languatges permits. But that lan- 
guage, which, it is said, was taught by God 
himself, occupies my attention most. * * « 

W. of ****, is senior wrangler. W. lectures 
on chemistry next term. Your plan of eircum* 
scribing your system of study is promising. I 
hope that temperance, country air, and exercise, 
have by this time given you health sufficient for 

College use. 

C,B. 

LETTER LXIL 

From the same to the same. 

DEAR **** Wednesday evening^ ^d Jan. 

T hope I shall have time, before the 
post sets off, to write you one page at least, 

I rejoice to find that you are seriously engaged 
in seeking peace. Only persevere, ottly be mii- 



[ 259 ] 

form for a few weeks, a few days, and you shallj 
you must have it. He who loved you so much as 
to die for you, has lio pleasure in afflicting" you 
without cause : he taketh no pleasure in behold- 
ing his children, who are contented to come 
out from the world, and bear his reproach, pass 
their hours in heaviness, disconsolate and ir- 
resolute. 

He himself set an example to you, and to me, 
how we ought to live. He had always one 
grand object in view, — doing his Father's wilh 
He went about doing good continually : his one 
grand object was doing good to the bodies or 
souls of men. Perhaps you and I have not 
to this hour, thought seriously of being useful, 
either to the bodies or the souls of men ! 

Our Saviour's life was a continued scene of 
activity. This is for our learning. Let no 
indolent habit ensnare our souls. Action is a 
great blessing to man. The miser has his 
enjoyment, — the trader, the ploughman, the 
man of business: the man of parts alone, like 
you, the man of improved understanding, he 
who can teach others, he is unhappy, because 
he is unemployed. 

1, therefore, will promise, from this day for- 
ward, to have one, and only one, great object 
in view; and that will be, giving glory to Gob, 
and ** doing good to the souls and bodies of 

S2 



[ 260 ] 

" men.*' Every thing must henceforth give 
way to this grand purpose. Every book I 
read, every conversation I hear, every walk 
I take, must assist in giving me new ideas, 
or new helps in this work. 

Only let me for ten days vie with the world- 
ling in industry, and then you shall see the fruit. 

My dear *♦**, whether you be heavy in heart, 
or merry, be active. Be active in prayer, or 
reading, or conversing, or walking, or riding. 
Sink not into fits of lethargy, which are death 
to the body, and death to the soul. 

You seem to expect too rapid a revolution in 
yourself. But be content *^ with the day of small 
" things." God could, as you wish, work a mira- 
cle, and restore you to health of body, and to 
health of mind. " But He will be sought 
" after." His invariable method of dealing 
with his children, through every age of the 
christian church, is, ** his spirit co-operating 
" with their prayers," and leading their minds 
from one degree of knowledge to another, 
from one degree of confidence to another, from 
one degree of peace to another. 

He has given you, m your past experience, 
every thing you have a title to expect. He 
gave you at Cambridge to taste a few days of 
that peace which the world knows not of; and 
which you attained at an easi/ price ; and which 



I 261 ] 

you might have kept to this day, (a seed then, 
but now a tree,) shedding its kindly influence 
on'many a hapless soul, you may have since seen. 

This peace you have once more attained, or 
are about to attain^ ** for he that seeks shall 
** find." Keep the jewel safely. Quench not 
the spirit. Two things are necessary for this. 
Offend not GoD by any presumptuous sin. 
Pray to him daily that his spirit may dwell in 
you. If you can read mathmatics pray do. I 
read them still. Anatomy, botany, astronomy, 
chemistry, are highly useful too, in preaching 
to this refined age the everlasting gospel. 

You seem to be distrest about something 
Doddridge has said. You need not. If Dod- 
dridge had written you this letter, he would 
conclude, probaby, with beseeching you to seek 
God in prayer, and in watchful conduct for 
some time; and assuring you that the result 
must be what God has promised, light to the 
understanding, and peace to the soul, 

I remain, dear ****, your's, affectionately, 

C. BUCHANAN. 



[ «62 ] 



LETTEIl LXIII. 

From Dr. Claud. Buchanan to T*»* E****, 
Esq; sen, 

MY DEAR SIR, Calcutta, July a, 1797. 

1 Now sit down to discharge a debt 
which has been long due, but which I could not 
pay till now. But to whom shall I pay it ? Not 
to you only, but to Mrs. E**% whom I respect; 
and to M***^, whom J admire; and to T****, 
whom I love; and why not include your 
nephews, who are noAy, perhaps, at your fire- 
side, and whose attentions to me I ought never 
to forget. 

As I could not deliver your letters to your 
friends at Madeira, I delivered them to Neptune, 
We did not see Madeira. 

I passed three weeks at the Cape. I wish 
T**** had been with me there. Next morning, 
as I was walking up the street, I met five large 
ostriches, who were seeking their food about the 
houses like domestic animals. We had fresh 
ostrich eggs at breakfast; one is enough for six 
people. I prosecuted my botanical researches 
with success at the Cape. The geraniums grow 
wild, in great variety. I made a small hortus 
siccus of Cape plants, which I carried to India. 



[ 268 ] 

From the Cape we sailed directly to the south, 
to the 44th degree of latitude ; and then ran in 
that parallel, till we reached Sumatra. We 
coasted along that island, and then bore away 
for Madras. From the time that we left Ports- 
mouth till our arrival in India, we had not a 
bad hour. 

On our arrival at Madras, the cattamaran 
came on board. This is a log of wood of two 
feet in breadth and ten in length, on which two 
naked black men sit, and paddle it with great 
effect through the most violent surf ; and while 
they row, they bellow a song, which has no 
music in it, but they keep good time. 

I went on shore, and staid two days at 
Madras, On the third day we set sail for 
Bengal, which we reached in a week. The 
1st of March brought us to an anchor in the 
** haven, where we would be.'* On the morn- 
ing of our arrival, a young man, looking out 
anxiously at the land, and hailing with joy the 
end of his voyage, fell into the sea, and rose no 
more! Think of this a little, before you read 
further. 

In a few days after, Budgerows came down 
for us from Calcutta. These Budgerows are 
large Barges, having beds and convenient rooms, 
so that families live in them two or three months 
together, sailing up and down the Ganges, 



[ 264 ] 

The small ships of 500 tons go up to Calcutta ; 
but the large ships' can go no farther than 
Diamond Harbour, which is about fifty mile^ 
below. 

I sailed up to Calcutta * ^ * * * * 
On our arrival I was entertained by the Rev» 
Mr. *=***. In a week afterwards I took and fur- 
nished a house of my own. 

There are two splendid churches here. 1 
am now at Barrackpore, a few miles from Cal- 
cutta, on the banks of the river. In ]S[ovember 
pext, I go farther up the Ganges, to a still 
healthier station. My friends wish to place me 
at last at Calcutta; bat they recommend tra- 
velling a little along the cool banks of the 
Ganges, as being useful in establishing my 
health, and naturalizing my constitution to the 
climate. Barrackpore, where I now am, has 
been called the Montpellier of India. Here 1 
enjoy every thing that can minister to comfort, 
luxury, or elegance, except society. We have 
society too ; but it is only polite society. I have 
not many here, I fear, whose hearts are awakened 
to the love of virtue and truth. Nevertheless, I 
possess two companions of inestimable value; I 
mean those two books which are written by the 
finger of God — the book of God's word, and 
the book of God's works. These are treasures 
"^hich are inexhaustible ; and which afford me, 



I 



[ 265 ] 



ia my retirement, pleasure, company, and 
comfort. 

My dear fellow, bow are you ? The tear is 
in my eye, when I call you to mind. I passed 
many pleasant days with you. Our constant 
theme was virtue and truth. I wish I may re- 
member those lessons myself, which I used to 
inculcate on you. We had, for a while, a bro- 
therly affection. Distance and absence must 
influence all things ; but sometimes friendships 
are increased by them. But they are only in- 
creased, when both parties, 

1st, Improve the day well in useful study ; 

2d, Meditate on their being's use and end; and 

3d, Endeavour conscientiously to discharge 
all the relative duties, whether to parents, re- 
lations, or friends. 

The man who forgets his God, will soon 
forget his friend. 

I wish much to hear of your health and pur- 
suits. I hope you are happy when at home; and 
that you find you can improve yourself there as 
well as at Cambridge. 

How is **'^'* ? He is fitted to be extremely 
happy or extremely miserable. He has noble 
qualities ^ and when the scriptures have wrought 
on him their perfect work, he will be an eminent 
christian. When you write to me, I dare say 
you will tell me all the interesting news you 



[ 266 ] 

can collect. But if you should not write to me, 
I shall not only think it my duty, but I shall 
find a pleasure, in writing to you, ♦ ♦ ♦ * 



L{;tter lxiv. 

To Miss E***». 

* * ^ * MOST of the young ladies 
herp attempt the harpsichord ; but there are, I 
understand, but one or two of any eminence in 
the country. There is one accomplishment 
which many of them labour to possess, namely, 
the art of conversation. They read a great deal, 
in order to acquaint themselves with general 
knowledge, that they may be able to bear a part 
in social converse. This is worthy the attention 
of some of their sisters at home* But then, 
too frequently, they have no christian ad- 
vice or example given them ; so that when they 
are on a sick bed, they have no comfort, and 
often die without hope ! This is a sorrowful 
picture. 

No attention is paid to the Sabbath in any 
part of India, but in Calcutta. The French 
honour their tenth day, more than we do our 
seventh. Whether I shall be useful in setting 
a good example, 1 know not. I may plant, and 



[ 267 ] 

another may water, but God alone giveth the 
increase. 

How is Mrs. T****? Does your mutual 
* affection still subsist ? If you are both good, 
it will. 

And now what more shall I say ? Shall I 
give you a picture of the scene around me ? I 
aqa situated on the banks of the Ganges. The 
country is champaign, but covered with trees ; 
the most numerous are cocoa nut, plantain^^ 
mango, and banian trees, (Pray learn all about 
them.) The river is covered with boats, passing 
and repassing. There are two Elephants amusing 
themselves at the water side. One of them is 
eating plantain leaves, which are his ordinary 
food ; he takes hold of the leaves with his trunk, 
and puts them into his mouth. The other i$ 
washing himself : he fills his trunk with water, 
and then throws it around him, so that he is 
covered with the spray. A little boy is now 
going to mount one of them, in order to lead them 
home; as he is not very heavy, he sits upon the 
point of the trunk, and thus the Elephant lifts 
him on his back. An elephant has no bridle. 
How, then, is he directed? The boy has a rod 
of iron, sharp at one end, and with this he 
pricks his head when he goes wrong. 

When the Elephant wishes to set down the 
ladies, who frequently ride upon him, he falls 



[ 268 ] 

upon his knees ; and when they have dismounted, 
he rises. He is altogether a wonderful animal. 

Next come a few Asses. I need not give you 
a description of them, but I must of the Camel 
that accompanies them : he carries an immense 
weight : he is nearly as high as the Elephant, 
and has a long neck, by means of which he can 
bring his head to most parts of his body. 

On the other side of the river I see a flock 
of Vultures ; they are hovering over a dead 
body, which is floating down the stream. Many 
of the Hindoos cast their dead into the Ganges, 
that they may be conveyed to Paradise ! About 
a mile up the river, a funeral pile is just lighted. 
It is now near evening, when this rite is usually 
performed. The relatives accompany the corpse 
to the water side, where a pile of dry wood is 
raised about the body, and the nearest relative 
applies the torcli. The jackals, allured by the 
smell, will presently comedown from^the woods, 
and prowl about. They live on carrion of all 
kinds, and are generally inoffensive. 

I write this in the viranda of my house; that 
is to say, under the shade of a projecting roof. 
A Parria dog craves an alms of me. These 
dogs are like your dogs, but they have no 
jnatsters. They are perfectly at large, and lie 
commonly in the woods, or near some house 
where they are encouraged. They are perfectly 



[ ^69 ] 

harmless, and are very useful in eating' offal and 
carrion, which, in a hot country, would soon 
produce infection. The air is frequently thronged 
^vith kites, hawks, and crows, who are looking 
for snakes, and other noxious creatures; and 
they are so successful in their search, that we are 
seldom annoyed by these animals. So attentive 
is Providence to the comfort of man ! 

A woman burnt herself with her dead husband, 
about three days ago, a few miles up the river. 
This happens very frequently : and yet you 
European ladies think it great matter to make 
a voyage for a husband ! 

My servants bring me a glass of wine and 
water. Two are concerned in this operation : 
one of them will not touch the glass, though he 
will pour the wine into it ! So strange are the 
superstitions of these people. Another will wipe 
my shoes, but he will not wash my feet. A third 
will bathe me, but he will not fan me. You 
see, Miss E., what strange things we travellers 
behold. 

Have I told you all ? or shall I mention a 
North- Wester ? This is a violent tornado from 
north-west, which makes a regular and magni- 
ficent progress through the heavens. Violent 
wind, thunder, and lightning, roll on in a kind 
of collected body. This short-lived tempest is 
very awful and very grand. It is always a 



[ 270 ] 

welcome visitor ; for it cools the heated air, and 
refreshes all nature around. 

I am now so familiarized to violent thunder, 
that I scarcely ever notice it, except when I ^o 
out purposely to contemplate the grandeur of a 
North' Wester. 



LETTER LXV. 
To T. E. sen. Esq. 

* ^^ * I Began the enclosed at Calcutta^ 
iut i finished it at Barrackpore. 

I have not been a day ill, since I left your fire- 
side; so kind is that Almighty companion, who 
takes care of me wherever I go. When I am 
tired, He gives me repose ; when I am thirsty. 
He gives me drink ; when his sun is too hot for 
me, He gives me shade. Great happiness await* 
me on earth, as well as in heaven, if I keep my 
heart right before Him. Be that i/our study too, 
my dear Sir ; there is no comfort without it.* * * 

LETTER LXVL 
To Mrs, E. 

MY DEAR MADAM, 

* * * In every place I have met with 
some of the " excellent in the earth." Men 



[ S7l i 

and wonnen^ rich and poor, young and old. And 
they all have had the same truths to tell me, the 
jsame Christ to love, the same Bible to read. 
And they alone have been the happy, among all 
that I have seen, I thought it would be so, 
when I vi^as in England ; but now I know it. 

Farewell, therefore, my dear Madam; and 
may you, and all your family, both know and 
possess the things that contribute to happiness 
here, and to bliss hereafter. 



To all my Friends. 

MY dear friends, there are twenty 
pages for you from a foreign land. I may yet 
see some of you ; I shall certainly hear of you ; 
and I hope to hear of your happiness, health, 
and peace. 

If I could confer a blessing, I would gladly 
bestow it on you all ; but since I oannot, I shall 
pray that God will ; and I remain your very 
faithful and affectionate, 

CLAUDE BUCHANAN. 

Sarrackpore, July 5, 1797, 



t 272 ] 

Mons. VOLTAIRE, 
And GEORGE LORD LYTTLETON. 



Character of Voltaire, hy Frederick 2df 
King of Prussia, 



M. VoLTATRE is below the stature of tall men; or 
in other words, a little above those of a middling size; 
he is extremely thin, and of an adust temperament, 
hot and atrabilious; his visage is meagre, his aspect 
ardent and penetrating, and there is a malignant quick- 
ness in his eye. The same fire that animates his 
works, appears in his actions, which are lively, even to 
absurdity. He is a kind of meteor, perpetually coming 
and going, with a quick motion, and sparkling light 
that dazzles our eyes. 

A Man thus constituted cannot fail of being a 
valetudinarian. " The blade cuts away the scabbard.'* 
Gay by complexion; grave by regimen; open, without 
frankness; poUte, without refinement; sociable, without 
friends. He knows the world, and he forgetsit. In the 
morning he is Aristippus, and Diogenes at night. He 
loves grandeur, and despises the great ; with his supe- 
riors his carriage is easy, but with his equals, constrained; 
he is first polite, then cold, then disgusting. He 
loves the Court, yet makes himself weary of it; he has 
sensibility, without connections ; and is voluptuous, 
without passion. He is attached to nothing by choice. 



[ ^73 ] 

but to every thing by inconstaincy. As he rea^onfS 
without principle, his reason has its fits, like the folly 
of others. He has a clear head, and a corrupt heart i 
he thinks of every thing, dnd treats every thing, with 
derision. He is a libertine, without a constitution for 
pleasure; and he knows how to moralise, without mo- 
rality. His vanity is excessive; but his avarice is still 
greater than his vanity : he therefore writes less for 
reputation than money, for which he may be said 
both to hunger and thirst. He is in haste to work, that 
he may be in haste to live : he was made to enjoy, and 
he determines only to hoard. Such is the man, and 
such is the author. 

'* There is no other poet in the world, whose verses 
cost him so little labour ; but this facility of compo- 
sition hurts him, because he abuses it j as there is but 
little for labour to supply, he is content that ftttl^ 
should be wanted ; and, therefore, almost all his pieces 
are unfinished. I^iit although he is an easy, an in- 
genious, and art elegant writer of poetry ; yet his prin- 
cipal excellence would be history, if he made fewer 
reflections, and drew no parallels ; in both of which, 
however, he has sometimes been very happy. In his 
last work he has imitated the manner of Bayle ; of 
whom, even in his censures of him, he has exhibited a 
copy. It has been long said, that for a writer to be 
without passion and without prejudice, he must have 
neither religion nor country ; and, in this respect, M. 
Voltaire has made great advances towards perfection. 
He cannot be accused of being a partizan to his 
nation ; he appears, on the contrary, to be affe«Sted with 
a species of madness, somewhat like that of old men, 
who are always extolling the time past, and bitterly 
complaining of the present, Voltaire is alwaj^s dis* 
satisfied with his own country, and lavish in his pmise 

T 



t 274 ] 

of those that are a thousand leagues off. As to religion, 
he is in that respect evidently undetermined; and he 
would certainly be the neutral and partial being, so 
much desired for an author, but for a little leaven of 
A nti- Jansenism, which appears somewhat too plainly 
distinguished in his works. Voltaire has much foreign, 
and much French, literature ; nor is he deficient in that 
mixed erudition, which is now so much in fashion. 
He is a politician, a naturalist, a geometrician, or 
whatever else he pleases ; but he is always superficial, 
because he is not able to be deep. He could not, how- 
ever, flourish, as he does upon those subjects, without 
great ingenuity. His taste is rather delicate than just; 
he is an ingenious satyrist, a bad critic, and a dabbler 
in the abstracted sciences. Imagination is his ele- 
ment; yet, strange as it is, he has no invention. He 
is reproached with continually passing from one ex- 
treme to another ; now a philanthropist, then a cynic ; 
now an excessive encomiast, then an outrageous 
satyrist. In one word, Voltaire would fain be an 
extraordinary man, and an extraordinary man he 
most certainly is." 

GEORGE LORD LYTTLETON. 

A singular contrast to Voltaire, in mind, intellect, sen- 
timent, and general character, is presented in George 
Lord Lyttleton, '^ the noble author" to whom the irri- 
able Frenchman addressed the letter immediately follow- 
ing. Of solid understanding, discriminating judgment, 
and well-digested erudition, his Lordship possessed qua- 
lities of the head, which the greatest admirers of his 
correspondent (if their admiration do not absorb their 
impartiality) must admit, that their favourite did not 
possess: and in every estimable quality of the heart, pure 
benevolence, disinterested affection, steady principles, 



[ 275 ] 

and an inflexible devotion to truth, no approach to a 
parallel with his Lordship can be found in the cha- 
racter of Voltaire. The literary works, also, of the 
two authors, are of entirely opposite complexions : in 
Voltaire, all is splendid tinsel, and false glitter, covering 
vain sophistry, false reasoning, and perverted sentiment. 
In the prose compositions of his Lordship, we find 
elegant, but manly, diction ; sterling sense ; powerful 
argument; sound logic; and admirable precepts. These 
excellencies more especially shine forth in his *^ Ob- 
*^ servations on the Conversion of St. Paul ;" '^ a 
" treatise, to which" (as Johnson observes) " infidelity 
*• has never been able to fabricate a specious answer." 
His Lordship was born A.D. 1709, and died Aug. 22, 
1773. He was buried at Hagley ; where the following 
inscription is cut on the side of the monument erected 
to the memory of the Lady Lyttleton : 

•"« This unadorned stone was placed here by the particular 

'' desire, and express directions, of the 

«' Right Honourable GEORGE LORD LYTTLETON j 

" Who died August 22d, 17/3, aged 04." 

His death was " the death of the righteous ;'* and 
his " latter end" was characterized by that christian re- 
signation and serenity, and illuminated by that pious 
hope and humble confidence, which are the closing 
blessings afforded to the good on this side the grave. 
The following letter {apart of which, only. Dr. S. John- 
son has given in his Life of Lyttleton, and that part 
incorrectly,) details, in a most interesting and edifying 
j hianner, the particulars of the last moments of this ex- 
'cellent nobleman. It was written by Dr. James John- 
jStone, his Lordship's friend and physician; a learned, 
'enlightened, and amiable medical character, who prac- 
Itised for many years at Kidderminster and Worcester^ 
\ T ,2 



[ 276 ] 

with the highest celebrity, success, and honour; and to 
whom mankind are indebted for the discovery of the 
use of muriatic acid gas, in correcting or destroying^ 
Contagion.* 



To Mrs. Montague. 



l\Ul)AM, May 26th, 1773. 

I Had the particular direction from 
Lord Lyttleton, on his death bed, to write to 
you the event of his illness ; the course of which 
his Lordship did not choose to communicate to 
his other friends. I know my letter will not 
bring you the earliest account of his death. 
It is the grief and inexpressible concern I feel 
for the loss of such a friend, and such a man, 
(who seemed to me to have an angelic pre- 
eminence above other mortals,) that prevented 
my giving the earliest intelligence ; and which 
now almost incapacitates me from writing: j 
yet I will execute the intention of my dear, 
departed friend, as well as I am able. 

* See a *' Reply to Dr. James Carmichael Smyth, &c. with 
^** a further Account of the Discovery of the Power of Mineral 
•'Acid, in a state of Gas, to destroy Contagion. By John 
''Johnstone, M. D. London, Mawman, 1805." Two of the 
surviving sons of Dr. James Johnstone practise as physicians, 
•who emulate the skill, and refledt the virtues, of their 
father,— Edw Johnstone, M. D. of Edgbaston Hall, near 
Birmingham 5 and John Johnstone, M. D. of Birmingham. 



[ 277 ] 

On Sunday morning', the symptoms of his 
disorder, which, for a week past, had alarmed 
lis, put on a fatal appearance, and his Lordship 
believed himself to be a dying man. He ex- 
pected death with the utmost fortitude and 
resignation ; and from this time suffered from 
restlessness, rather than pain ; was sensible 
nearly to his last moments; and though his nerves 
were apparently fluttered, his mental faculties 
never appeared stronger, as Avas evident from 
many expressions which dropped from him, 
when he was awake. 

His Lordship* bilious and hepatic complaint 
seemed alone not equal to this mournful and 
fatal event : his long want of sleep, whether the 
consequepce of irritation in his bowels, or, which 
is more probable, of causes of a different nature, 
accounts very sufficiently for his sudden loss of 
strength; for sleep is indeed of such absolute 
necessity, that a long want of it must terminate 
in either death or madness. 

His death-bed was one of the most interesting 
scenes I ever was a witness of. He was, as I 
have observed, perfectly sensible of his ap- 
proaching dissolution ; and though he wished it 
not to be lingering, he waited for it with re- 
signatiom He said, " It is a folly, a joke, to 
** keep me in misery, by attempting to prolong 
" life ;'* and yet he was easily persuaded, for the 



[ 278 3 

satisfaction of others, to do, or take, any thing*, 
thought proper for him. 

On Sunday, about eleven o'clock, he sent for 
me, and said " he felt a great hurry of spirits, and 
'^wished for a little conversation to divert it.'* 
Besides many obliging things he said to me in 
the course of his illness, he now expressed him- 
self thus : " I have experienced so much kindness 
* ' from you, and all my friends and attendants, 
^' on this occasion, that I think it worth having 
^' such an illness, to enjoy such kindness ; if I 
^' wish to live, it is to return it, and be more 
" with you." 

In this conversation he went on to open the 
fountain in that heart, from whence goodness 
had so long flowed, as from a copious spring. 
** Doctor," said he, "you shall be my con- 
^* fessor. When I first set out in the world, 
" I had friends, who endeavoured, with all their 
" might, to shake my belief in the christian re- 
" ligion. I saw difficulties, which staggered me; 
" but I kept my mind open to conviction. The 
" evidences and doctrines of Christianity, stu- 
** died with attention, made me a most firm and 
" persuaded believer of the christian religion 
* * I have made it the rule of my life, and the 
" ground of my future hopes. I have erred 
" and sinned, but have repented, and never in- 
«* dulged any vicious habit.'* 



[ 279 1 

" In politics, and public life, I made public 
** good the rule of my conduct. I never gave 
^' counsel which I did not at that time think the 
** best. 1 have seen that I was sometimes in the 
** wrong, but I did not err designedly. In public 
** affairs, great good can often only be done by 
" risking some evils ; and morality is, in that 
** sphere, necessarily in a larger ground, than in 
" more private affairs. I have endeavoured, in 
" private life, to do all the good in my power; and 
** never for a moment could indulge malicious or 
** unjust designs against any person whatsoever." 

At another time he said, " I must leave my 
*' soul in the same state it was before this illness; 
" I find this a very inconvenient time for soli- 
'* citude about any thing." 

In the evening, when the symptoms of death 
came on, he said, *' I shall die — but it will not 
*' be your fault; write to Mrs. Montague; com- 
*'fort Mrs. Lyttleton ;" and a hundred times 
closely grasped the hand that now writes you 
this information. 

When Lord and Lady Valentia came, he 
gave them his solemn benediction, saying, " Be 
" good, be virtuous ! My Lord, you must come 
** to this !" Thus he continued giving his be- 
nedictions, dying as he was, to all around him. 
On Monday morning a lucid interval gave somfe 
small hopes 3 but they vanished in the evening, 



[ 280 ] 

and he continued dying, but with very little un- 
easiness, till Tuesday morning*, when, between 
7 and 8 o'clock, he expired almost without a 
groan. 

Thus died this amiable and excellent man. 
His death was one of the triumphs of that re- 
ligion, of which he had long been an able ad- 
vocate ; and of which his life was a distinguished 
and unaffected ornament. 

I am, Madam, your obedient servant^ 

X JOHNSTONE. 



LETTER LXVII. 
^rom Mons, Vqjltaiiie to Lord LyxTLETO^fo 

MY LORD, 

T HAVE read the ingenious Dialogues of the 
-■- Dead. J find (page 134) that 1 am an 
exile, and guilty of some excesses in writing; 
I am obliged (and perhaps for the honour of 
my country) to say, that 1 am not an exile, 
because I have not committed the excesses the 
author of the Dialogues imputes to me. Nobody 



[ ?81 ] 

raised his voice higher thaij ipine in favour of 
the rights of human kind, yet I have not ex- 
ceeded in that virtue. 

I am not settled in Switzerland, as the noble 
author believes. I live on my own lands in 
France. Retrpat is becoming to old age 5 and 
more becoming on one's own possessions. If J 
enjoy a little country-house near Geneva, my 
manors and my castles are in Burgundy ; and if 
my King has been pleased to confirm the privi- 
leges of my lands, which are free from all tri- 
butes, I am the more attached to my King. 

If I were an exile, I had not obtained from my 
Court ipany a passport for English noblemen. 
The service I rendered them, entitles me to the 
justice which I expect from the noble author- 
As to religion, I think, and I hopie the noble 
author thinks with me, that God is neither a 
Presbyterian, nor a Lutheran, nor of the low 
church, nor of the high church; but God is thp 
father of all mankind ; the father of the noble 
author and myself. 

I am, with respect, his most humble servant, 

VOLTAIRE, 

Gentleman of the Chamber to his Majesty. 



[ 282 ] 

LETTER LXViri. 

From Lord Lyttleton to M. Voltaire. 

SIR, 

I Have received the honour of youf 
letter, dated from your Castle of Ferney in Bur- 
gundy ; by which I find I was guilty of a mistake 
in calling your retirement an exile. When another 
edition of my Dialogues shall be made, either in 
English or in French,; I will take care that the 
error shall be corrected ; and I am sorry that I 
•was not apprized of it sooner, that I might have 
corrected it in the first edition of the French 
translation of those Dialogues, just published 
under my inspection, in London. 

To do you justice, is a duty I owe to truth 
and myself; and you have a much better title to 
it, than from the passports you can have procured 
for English noblemen. You are entitled to it, 
Sir, by the high sentiments of respect I have 
for you ; which are not paid to the privileged 
you tell me your King has conferred upon your 
lands, but to the noble talents God has given 
you, and the superior rank you hold in the re- 
public of letters. 

The favours done you by your Sovereign are 
an honour to him, but add little lustre to the 
name of Voltaire. I entirely agree with you. 



[ 28a 3 

that God is the Father of all mankind ; and I 
should think it blaspherfty to confine his good- 
ness to a particular sect; nor do I believe that 
jany of his creatures are good in his sight, if 
they do not extend their benevolence to all his 
creation. 

These opinions I rejoice to see in some of 
your works ; and should be very glad to be con« 
vinced, that the liberty of your thoughts and your 
pen, upon subjects of philosophy and religion, 
never exceeded the bounds of that generous 
principle, which is authorised by revelation, as 
much as by reason ; and that you disapproved, 
in your hours of sober reflection, those irregular 
sallies of fancy, which cannot be justified, though 
they may be accounted for, by the vivacity and 
fire of a great genius. 

I have the honour to be. Sir, 

Your most humble servant, 

LYTTLETON. 



[ «84 ] 



THE HOUGHTON PICTURES. 



This noble collection of the best specimens of the 
different ancient schools, was made by Sir Robert 
Walpole, and placed in Houghton Hall, the ancient 
seat of the Walpole family, in Norfolk. In the year 1 767^ 
the late Lord Orford, then Horace Walpole, printed a 
partial account of theni, with observations, on their 
merits, cost, &c. In the year 1 778, they were catalogued, 
priced, and exposed for sale : and money offered for 
them by the agent of Catherine 11. Empress of Russia. 
Mr. Tyson, in a letter to Richard Gough, esq; 10th 
February 1779, alludes to the fear which generally 
prevailed among the lovers of the arts, of their being 
exported into a foreign country; and expresses his 
pleasure that some English purchaser was likely to 
prevent such a public loss. " I am delighted," says he^ 
" with the hopes of some English Duke's purchasing 
*^ the Houghton pictures: it would have been a burning 
" shame to have had them gone out of the kingdom.** 
Nichols's Literary Anecdotes^ vol, viii, p. 639. The ne- 
gociation, however, with the Era press proceeded ; and two 
months afterwards, the purchase was announced in the 
Gentleman's Magazine, in the following manner. "The 
'* Empress of Russia has purchased the Houghton Col- 
** lection of Pictures for Jt 43,000. They were estimated 
«^ at £40,000 ; but the Empress advanced £3000, for 
" the liberty of selecting such of them as ar6 most^uited 



[ 285 } 

*• to her purpose of establishing a school for paititidg 
** in her capital. The rest will probably be disposed of 
^* by auction, in England. Such is the fate of this first 
** collection in Great-Britain; which, exclui»ive of pre- 
'*seuts, cost its noble proprietor nearly £100,000 to 
** form ; and which ought to have been added to the 
** Devonshire and Bedford collections; but it is gone, if 
** it survives the hazard of the sea, or the risques of war, 
*' to assist the slow progress of the arts, in the cold un- 
" ripening regions of the north." Genl, Mag, May 
1779. Mr. Tyson, however, in a letter of the same 
month, to his friend Gough, retained some feeble hope, 
that the fatal die of exportation might not be cast. 
" The bargain," says he, " for the Houghton Collection 
" is not yet concluded. If the Empress pay the 
" £40,550, the valuation, she certainly may sell, burn, 
" or drown, any part, or the whole : and nothing can 
'• be so far from common sense, as to suppose, that she 
*' is to pay £3000 more than the valuation, for the 
" liberty of selling part by auction. Lord Orford will 
" not care what becomes of them, when he has got the 
** rino. Sir Robert Walpole paid only £800 for the 
** Guido, which is valued in the appraisement at 
" £3,500; and so many were presents to him, that it 
** is not probable they should cost him so much as 
** £30,000, instead of the £ 100,000, the Magazine sets 
" forth." But the fate of this noble collection was, 
soon after, determined ; and in the Gentleman's Maga- 
zine for September and October, in the above-mentioned 
year, we find the following notices of its transportation 
to Russia, and its arrival in that country. " The 
" Houghton collection is not only now certainly sold to 
*' theEmpressofRussia,but actually shipped. The delay 
'* was occasioned by the Empress insisting on having 
" the noble collector's portrait into the bargain \ which 



[ 286 ] 

'* being once agreed to, there was hardly time for pack- 
" ing up the pictures ; and they were sent by waggons 
" to the port of Lynn the latter end of last month — Sep- 
'' tember 1779."—" The Houghton Collection of Pic- 
" tures, we hear, is safely arrived at St. Petersburgh,— 
*' October 1779." The departure of such a rare assem- 
blage of the finest models of the pictorial art was 
considered, at the time, as a public loss, and deplored 
in most of the publications of the day. Mr. Gough 
(Mr. Tyson's correspondent) has thus feelingly lamented 
it in his British Topography. " The lovers of the polite 
'^ arts will join me in deploring the removal of the 
*' Houghton Collection, last year, from this country,— 
*^ for ever ! to a region, whose chiefest praise must be, 
" that it stretches forth its arms to foster, what the 
*' swarms that have issued from it, have destroyed, 
" in their rapid inundations of Europe. Mr. Boydell 
*' had engraved only six numbers of his design, com- 
" prehending sixty out of above two hundred pictures; 
" among which, the prints of those executed by Mr. 
" Earlom, are most decidedly entitled to the preference. 
" Some of the principal have not yet been published." 
As the following letter was written by an amateur of 
high taste, and great practical skill, it will enable the 
reader to judge of the merits and excellencies of some 
of the best pictures in this celebrated collection ; and 
to appreciate the loss which the arts, in this country^ 
sustained, when it was removed into a foreign one. 



[287 ] 

LETTER LXIX. 
From **** to ****. 

MY DEAR FRIEND, York, OcL 3, 1780. 

TT is with great pleasure that I comply with 
**• your wishes ; and take up* my pen to trans- 
mit to you my observations on the Houghton 
Collection; which I can never hope to see again, 
and the recollection of which 1 shall be glad 
thus to fix in my memory. 

I cannot help mentioning the Prodigal Son, 
by Salvator Rosa, as the first ; because I found 
it by far the most interestmg picture in the 
collection. There is truth, nature, and expres- 
sion, in it ; the strongest character of distress 
and contrition in the countenance, and yet an 
extraordinary eagerness of expectation in the 
eye, which is earnestly cast up to Heaven, as 
if expecting some comfort and assistance from 
thence, in consequence of his repentance. I 
looked at the picture, till I could almost believe 
it to be a real person. You know my great 
partiality for Salvator Rosa's works; there is 
something great, wild, and sublime in his stile, 
that is more Pindaric (if I may be allowed the 
expression) than in that of any other painter. 
This picture, and the Belisarius, wiiich I saw 



[ 288 ] 

aftei^wairds at Lord Townsend's, are the iy^a 
iiest pieces of bis that I ever beheld. I think 
1 should give the preference, upon the whole, to 
the Belisarius; there is more dignity in the 
distress, which makes it more affecting. If 
there be any fault in the Prodigal Son, it is, that 
he does not look sufficiently like dL gentleman, and, 
therefore, does not impress, strongly enough, ofi 
your mind, the recollection of the state from 
which he is fallen^ and which should have ap^ 
peared as a strong aggravation of his present 
distress. Whether it is owing to this, or 
whether it is not at present the fashion to like 
Salvator's black stile, this picture is sold (as I 
apprehend) much too cheap, in comparison of 
many others in the collection. It was valued 
only at £700.; whereas a picture, at the upper 
end of the gallery, of Abraham, Sarah, and 
Hagar, by Pietro de Cortona, which I should 
think far inferior, was valued at £1000. Two 
flower-pieces, by Van Huysum, in the cabinet, 
at £1000; and a little highly-finished picture, 
but an odious subject, (David, Bathsheba, and 
Abishag,) by Vanderwerff, at £700. The 
Albano, also, over the chimney in the saloon, 
of Christ baptized by St. John, is valued at 
£700. They say it is a better picture than 
any large work that ever was done by Albano; 
but it is far inferior to Salvator's stile, in that 



Which affects liie most, arid which I should 
call the poetical part of the art* Salvator^ like 
Shakespeare, gives you truths nature, passion^ 
character^ reality ; while Albano, Carlo Marat,: 
and his scholars, Pietro de Cortona^ Eustachej 
lie Senar, and many others, play upon the ieye|: 
some by pretty attitudes, and some by pretty/ 
colouring, and penciling, rather than address 
themselves to the hearty , I will not say that thift 
is the case with Poussin ; foi* though his attitude^! 
<!^e- beautiful, his figures as perfect £isiantiq[ue 
statues, and his compositions correct. and clas^i-f 
cal, yet I find theill very often affecting, partiipUw 
larly that picturein the gallery, of Moses striking 
the Ro ck ; in whi ch the earnestness: oi: many '<|C 
the figures is very interesting* 1 1 am sorry to^ 
say the figure of Moses is least so* That pi<?- 
ture is valued at £900 > and its <;pmpanix)n, the 
Continence of Scipioj at £tJOO. This is a very 
fine picture too, though I think not so interesting, 
The Celtiberiaji Captive is beautiful: she is 
very much covered with a blue drapery, but 
her attitude is that of the Venus de Medicis. 
^>iBut the picture which is estimated at the. 
highest price, and isthe most universally admired^ 
is that of th« Doctors of the Church, consulting! 
about the immaculate conception of the Virgin; 
Mary. This is valued at £3500. The richness 
and clearness of the colpurs, tlie elegj^nt figure: 



[ 29d ] 

ol^ the Vifg'in, and the little angels, (wh6 are all 
in the clouds,) and the varied attitudes of the 
doctors below, deserve the highest encomiums 5 
indeed I never saw so fine a picture in all these 
respects, but the subject is totally uninteresting ; 
and the expression of doubt, (though that is as 
well expressed as possible in the various attitudeis 
and faces of the doctors,) is, perhaps, of all 
fentittients of the mind, that which gives least 
plesteHfe to observe. 

Where something important depends upon the 
progress of conviction, and where you see the 
different degrees df it, in different faces, as in 
Raphaers cartoon of St. Paul preaching at 
Atbens> it becomes extremely interesting. But, 
perhaps^the principal reason why you are sa 
much interested there is, because you actually see 
the preacher, and see the effect of his discourse 
upon his audience, in all the different degrees, 
of contemptuous disbelief, fluctuating doubts^ 
and aiiimatfed conviction ; whereas in this pic-- 
ture of Guido's, the Doctors seem all too 
doubtful, though in different degrees ; and you 
do not comprehend any reason why they should 
be Otherwise. I believe Sir Joshua Reynold* 
has stamped the value upon this picture; for, 
I am told, that he once offered £3500. I wish 
be had had it, that it might have remained in 
the kingdom ; but the Empress was determined 



t 29t ] 

to have them all, or none. She has even in- 
siisted upon having the picture of Sir Robert 
Walpole himself, (though painted by a very 
moderate hand,) as a kind of preface or frontis- 
piece to the collection ; in which, I think, she 
judges right, and shews more respect to thd 
memory of that great man, tlian his descendant, 
who sells them, as he would do so many bales of 
cloth, with no other consideration, than that he 
gets £40,000 or £50,000 for them. % 

There was another Guido, which I admired 
tery much too. A Holy Fatmily, in an octagon 
shape, at the upper end of the gallery ; which is 
painted in a most delicate, elegant, and graceful 
manner. There is also a Rembrandt, at the 
same end of the room, of Abraham's Sacrifice. 
The subject is very striking. Isaac lies bound^ 
as if ready to have his throat cut by his father's 
hand, and Abraham covers the youth's face vntfa 
his hand, as if unable to bear the sight of it. It 
made my blood run cold ; but I never saw such 
fine expression as there is in Abraham's face. 
You see all the agitation of his mind ; and his 
pale and ghastly countenance gives you fully to 
conceive what he must have gone through, be- 
fore he could work himself up to such a horrid 
resolution. The Angel holds his hand, but 
Abraham looks still scared, and as if he eould 
hardly believe that the dreadful sacrifice W3is 

V 2 



[ 292 ] 

remitted. The effect of light and shade, too, 
is excessively fine in this piece : I hope you took 
notice of it. But when I come to speak of effects, 
it is impossible not to think immediately of that 
illimitable landscape of Reubens, in the same 
gallery, of a Cart overturned in a Wood ) the 
moon appearing through the trees on one side ', 
in another part the glimmering light of the de» 
parting day; and the finest rock, with the richest, 
clearest colouring, up in the middle of the piece, 
I never saw such a lesson in the art of light 
and shad€, and effects, as this picture is. I 
studied it again and again, many times, and 
wished I could have brought off the memory 
6f it, which would have fixed in my mind a 
fund of instruction and knowledge. The 
shades are wonderfully clear, and the whole 
colouring rich and harmonious. Reubens 
iilways, I believe, painted upon a white ground, 
and this, in some places, is scarcely covered ; 
the tints about the rock, especially, are almost 
transparent. There are other very fine works 
of Reubens here besides, and though he is not 
quite my favourite painter in historical subjects, 
on. account of the coarseness of his women, and 
the vulgarity that he too often gives to his 
figures, I must allow these have wonderful 
merit in the effect. Do you remember the 
great picture in the saloon, of Mar)r Magdalen 



[ 293 3 

washing: Christ's feet? The Pharisees are 
fat, vulgar-looking fellows; and even Christ 
himself, and his disciples, want that dignity of 
character, (noble in simplicity,) which, a painter 
of a true taste, and an elevated imagination^ 
would have endeavoured to have given them.; 
The figure of the Magdalen is extremely dis-t 
gusting. But in point of light and shade^, 
clearness and brilliancy of colour, and judicious 
disposition of the figures, to form the general 
effects, nothing can exceed it. This is also a 
most admirable lesson to form young painters. 
I wish it were placed in our academy, instead of 
))eing in that of the Russian Empress: it is sur- 
prising what an effect the whiteness of the 
table-cloth (placed as it is in that picture) has 
to compose the harmony and force of the whole. 
Cover the table-cloth, with your hand near your 
eyes, as you look at the picture, and the effect 
is gone. So it is with the landscape Uiat I, 
«poke of before ; there is a little circumstance 
in it of a man in a red drapery, that holds up the 
cart, which is placed just in the foreground^ and 
it is wonderful what an effect that little circum- 
stance has in warming and tuning the whole; 
and how (jold and deficient you will immediately 
perceive it tq be, upon covering this red jacket. 
Perhaps lam whimsical, ^nd perhaps you will 
laugh at me, I should like, however, to know 



I 294 ] 

ivhat remarks you made upon these two pieces. 
That of the Magdalene is valued at £ 1 600 ; and 
so is its companion, the Virgin with the child 
in her lap, and a number of boy angels, like little 
cupids, dancing before them. This, if you remem^* 
)3er, is very much in Reubens' manner, though 
it is done by Vandyke. The boys are lovely, 
perfect nature, and more delicate nature than 
Reubens generally chooses. The principal angel, 
who addressee himself to the infant Christ, 
is a charming little animated figure ; his little 
arms are extended, and you could imagine him 
singing, "Glory be to God on high," &c. 
The Virgin is the worst part of the picture; 
her couiitenfince is heavy and disagreeable : the 
printed catalogue sayji, by way of apology, that 
it seems to have been a portrait. 

Before I leave the pic|;ures in the saloon, I 
must take notice of St. Francis, with the Infant 
Jesus in his arms. There is grace, delicacy, 
taste, and expression ; every thing that cari 
make a picture perfect. The head of the Saint 
is much like the head of one of the doctors of 
the church, in the great picture; and the child, 
I think, is like that in the Holy Family (octagon 
shape) that I mentioned before. I am told the 
design is taken from a statue of a Silenus, with 
a youi>g Bacchus in his arms, that is at Rome. 



i 



[ 1295 ] 

Wherever the idea comes from, it is chamnngrly 
executed, : *> ^ aiii . 

I don't know who the pictures were yalued 
by. Monsieur Poushkin told me he did not 
know himself; but that he took them accordinpr 
to the valuation given by Lord Orford. He 
told me the prices of most of them, and the rest I 
got from sonje other gentlemen in that country; 
bi|t I apprehend they were many of them very 
ignorantly valued, and I fancy you will think 
this St. Francis one instance of it. This 
picture went for £l60; while s^ picture, in a 
circular shapp, by Cantasini, which hung next 
to it, and which certainly is a ranch inferior 
pictur0| though it may be a few inches larger 
in size, went for £300. And there was a Holy 
Family in the same room, by Andrea de Obarte, 
which was valued at £250. It may be a very good 
picture, for any thing I know ; but the manner is 
|iard,and the composition crowded; sothatl have 
no idea how it can be oi superior^ or even of equal 
value to such a work of Guido's. There was 
likewise another work of Guido's, that hung in 
the Carlo Marat room,— a sweet pro61e of a St. 
Catherine, — that was valued at no more than 
£20. How I longed to have bought that fo^ 
myself! 

The Carlo Marat room gave me but little 
pleasure, in comparison of the rest of the col- 



[ 29^ 1 

lection ; and I think I remember to have heard 
you say the same. Among the works of the first 
and greatest masters, Carlo Marat holds but an 
inferior place ; and thoug'h many of his compoi 
mtions are exceedingly pretty y you can seldom 
call any of them very fine. But when I say this, 
I must except the portrait of Clement IX. which 
hangs over the chimney in that room, and which 
seems to me to be the finest , portrait that ever 
was painted by the hand of any master whatever. 
I looked at it, till I thought I grew acquainted 
with the man. It is vastly unlike any other 
picture that I ever saw by Carlo Marat. » 

•; 'There are but two performances by Raphael 
in this collection. One is a small picture of the 
J^ast Supper, but it is not in Raphael's best 
manner ; the figures seem rather too short, and 
with large heads; and there is something formal 
in the manner of disposing of them ; particularly 
in th^CHRiST, who looks straight forward with 
a full face, and, I thjnk, no great degree of 
expression; however, there is a very fine ex- 
pression and character in some of the other heads. 
The other work of Raphael's is only a head, cut 
put pf some cartoon. I am told, that it is supposed 
tp be put out of some cartoon (that is now lost) 
of the Resurrection ; but of which there is some 
print, or drawing, or description extant; and 
that this head is pn^ of the guards,, who iQpks ug 






[ 297 ] 

in terror, upon seeing' Christ rise out of the 
tomb. The expression of the features answers 
well to this iacGount; and it is an exceedingly 
fine, spirited sketch. 

I will not add to the length of this, already 
long, letter, otherwise than to assure you of the 
sincere and affectionate regard of your's faith- 
fully, 



LETTER LXX. 
From Dr. Glass io ****. 

DEAR ****, 

THIS, perhaps, is the last opportunity 
which I shall ever have of addressing myself to 
you. You are going into a far country; it can- 
not be long ** before I go hence, and be seen no 
'^ more.'' Remember always,'* my young friend, 
that the sort of life in which you are now en- 
gaging is your own choice ; and if it should 
prove less commodious and agreeable than you 
expected when that choice was made, you will 
have no one to blame. You never could suppose 
that a seaman's hammock was a bed of down, 
or that a conflict with winds and waves was a 
game at play. But, thanks be to God, you 
have been taught how to conduct yourself in 



[ 298 ] 

every situation of life : the great matter now will 
be, to practise what you know to be your duty; 
you know whither to direct your prayers, your 
trust and confidence, in the midst of dangers. 
It is true that you will be often out of the reach 
of spiritual ordinances; you must make up for 
the want of them by private acts of piety and 
religious meditation. This letter will be accom« 
panied by a Bible and Prayer-book ; and by 
another book, not yet published, which I hope 
will be found to contain the whole duty of man. 
Never let a sabbath-day pass unregarded, where^ 
ever you are; nor ever suffer yourself to be 
laughed out of it. Keep stedfast in yqur duty 
to God, and that will keep yqu faithful and 
trust-worthy in your duty to your employers. 
Do every thing required of you with cheerfuU 
ness, with diligence, and good^natqre. Jn a 
moment of danger exert yourself with spirit, 
looking up to God, who knoweth us all to be 
set in the midst of dangers, and is able to help 
and deliver us, as seemeth best to his iniinite 
wisdom. Remember, G — , that the only re* 
medy that you can apply to the almost broken 
heart of your poor mother will be, the intelli* 
gence that you are going on well in your new 
situation, keeping innocence, and always taking 
heed to the thing that is right ; securing the 
friendship of those, who, if you conduct yourself 



[ 299 ] 

well; will always be ready to serve you, and 
doing" credit to the recommendation of your 
faithful friend and well-wisher, 



LETTER LXXr. 
From ^^e /2ey. Wm. Jones, of Nayland, to^^% 

V 
MY DEAR FllIEND, 

THOUGH I am in a very low and 
sorrowful state, from the pressure of a trouble- 
some memory upon a broken lieart, I am not 
insensible to the expressions of your kind con- 
solatory letter, for which I heartily thank you, 
and pray that the effect of it may continue with 
me. The prospect which has been before me 
for several weeks past, has kept my mind (too 
weak and soft on all tender occasions) under 
continual, and, as I feared, insupportable agita- 
tion, till, after a painful struggle, no relief could 
be found, but by bowing my head with silent 
submission to the will of God; which came to 
pass, but a few days before the fatal stroke. 

I have found it pleasant, in times past, to do 
the work of God, to demonstrate his wisdom, 
and to defend his truth, to the hazard of my quiet 
and reputation. But oh! my dear friend, I 
never knew till now what it was to suffer the 



[ 300 ] 

will of Gob; although my life has not been 
very free from great trials and troubles. Neither 
was I sensible of Adam's transgression, till it 
took effect upon the life of my blessed compa- 
Jiion, of whom neither I nor the world was 
worthy. If I could judge of this case as an 
indifferent person, I should see great reason to 
give th^inks and glory to God fur his mercies. 
We had every preparatory comfort, and death 
at last came in such a form as to seem disarmed 
of his sting. A Christian Clergyman, of this 
neighbourhood, administered the Communion to 
her, in her bedchamber, while she was well 
enough to kneel beside him ; and he declared 
to me afterwards, that he was charmed and 
edified by the sight : for that the peace of heaven 
was visible in her countenance ; I saw the larae, 
and J would have given my life, if that look 
could have been taken and preserved j it would 
have been a sermon to the rest of the world. 
On the last evening she sat with me in the par- 
Jour, where I am now writing, and I read the 
lessons of the day to her, as usual, in which was 
this remarkable passage, " And the time drew 
** nigh that Israel must die.'* Of this I felt 
the .effect, but made no remarks. On her last 
morning, we expected her below stairs; but at 
eleven o'clock, as I was going out to church, to 
jom with the congregation in prayer for her, an 




t 301 ] 

iilarming" drowsiness had seized upon her, and 
she seemed as a person literally falling asleep ; 
till, at the point of noon, it appeared that she 
was ^one ; but the article of her dying: could not 
be distinguished, it was more like a translation. 

I have reason to remember, with g-reat thank- 
fulness, that her life was preserved a year long-er 
than I expected ; in consequence of which, I had 
the blessing" of her attendance to help and com- 
fort me, under a tedious illnessof the last summer, 
under which I sliould probably have sunk, if she 
had been taken from me sooner. It so pleased 
God, that when she grew worse, I became better^ 
and able to attend her with all the zeal the ten- 
derest affection could inspire. But how different 
were our services ! She, though with the weak- 
ness of a woman, and in her seventy -fifth year, 
had the fortitude of a man, 1 mean a Christian; 
and all her conversation tended to lessen the 
«vils of life, while it inspired hope and patience 
under them. The support which she adminis- 
tered was of such a sort, as might have been 
expected from an angel ; while I, when my time 
came, was too much overwhelmed with the 
affliction of a weak mortal. My loss compre- 
hends every thing that was most valuable to me 
upon earth. I have lost the manager, whose 
vigilant attention to my worldly affairs, and 
€xact method in ordering my family, preserved 



[ 302 ] 

Hiy mind at liberty to pursue my studies, without 
loss of time, or distraction of thought. I have- 
lost my almoner, who knew and understood the 
wants of the poor better than I did, and was al- 
ways ready to supply them to the best of our 
ability. I have lost my counsellor, who generally 
knew what was best to be done in difficult cases, 
and to whom I always found it of some advan- 
tage to submit my compositions; and whose 
mindy being little disturbed with passions, was 
always inclined to peaceable and christian mea- 
sures. I have lost my example, who always olr- 
served a strict method of daily devotion, from 
which nothing could divert her; whose patience, 
imder every kind of trial, seemed invincible. 
She was blest with the rare gift of an equal, 
cheerful temper, and preserved it uder a long 
course of ill health, I may say, for forty years „ 
To have reached her age, would have been to 
her impossible, without that quiet humble spirit, 
which never admitted of murmuring or complain- 
ing, either in herself or others ; and patient, quiet 
sufferers, were the favourite objects of her private 
charities. 

It might be of use to some good Christian to 
know, that she had formed her mind after the 
rules of the excellent Bishop Taylor, in his 
* Holy Living and Dying/ an author, of whom 
she was a great admirer, in common with her 



[ 303 ] 

llear friend Bishop Home. I have lost my 
companion, whose conversation was sufficient of 
itself^ if the world was absent; to the surprise of 
some of my neighbours, who remarked how much 
of our time we spent in solitude, and wondered 
what we could find to converse about. But her 
mind was so well furnished, and her objects so 
%vell selected, that there were few great subjects 
in which we had not a common interest. 1 have 
lost my best friend, who, regardless of herself, 
studied my ease and advantage in every thing. 
These things may be small to others, but they 
are great to me ; and though they arc gone as 
a vision of the night, the memory of them will 
always be upon my mind, during the remainder 
of my journey, which I must now travel alone* 
Nevertheless, if the word of God be my com- 
panion, and his Holy Spirit my guide, 1 need 
not be solitary, till I shall once more meet my 
departed saint, never more to be separated; 
which God grant in his good time, according 
to his word and promise in our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ. 

From your faithful and affectionate friend, 

WM. JONES. 

FINIS. 



Printed by Richard Crutt we 11, 
St. JamesVSireet, Bath. 



speedily will he puhlished^ bjj the same Editor^ ' 

In Two Vols. Duodecimo, Price 14s. in Board*, 

Ctterarp Crito; 

C3» sisTiNc oi- 
ORIGINAL LETTERS 

PROM 
If 

OLIVER CROMWELL, GENERAL FAIRFAX, 

GENERAL MONK, COUNT ALGAROTTI^ 

FRANCIS GROSE, E3Q; REV. 

SAMUEL PEGGE, &c. &c.; 

iBiograjyJncal Sketches^ Original Anecdotes, Re^ 
fleclions on Aulliors, Poetical Effusions, S^c. 



Cptetolarp Cutiosittes; 



SERIES THE FIRST: 



CONSISTING OF 



UNPUBLISHED LETTERS, 

Of tbe Soventeenth Century, 

Illustrative of the HERBERT Family, 

And of the Reigns of JAMES I. CHARLES L CHARLES 11. 
JAMES II. and WILLIAM IIL 

FROM 



GEORGE HERBERT, 
V ELIZABETH QUEEN OF 

BOHEMIA, 
EDWARD LORD HERBERT 

OF CHERBURY, 
Sir HENRY HERBERT, Knight, 

Master of the Revels, 
PRINCE RUPERT, 
PRINCE MAURICE, 



GENERAL FAIRFAX, 
OLIVER CROMWELL, 
JOHN SELDEN, 
GENERAL MONK, 
ARTHUR HERBERT, LORD 

TORRINGTON, 
LORD GODOLPHIN, 
DUKE of SHREWSBURY, 



With Notes, and an Appendix. 

EDITED BY 

REBECCA WARNER, 

OF BEECH COTTAGE, BATH. 



PRINTED BY 

RICHARD CRUTTWELL, ST. JAMES'S-STREET, BATH; 

AND SOLD BY 

LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWNj 

PATER-NOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 

1818. 



CONTENTS. 



I. From George Herbert to Mr. Herbert . i ....... . 1 

II. From the same to Sir Henry Herbert 6 

III. From the same to the same 7 

IV. From the same, to the same 8 

V. From Dr. Donne to Sir Robert Carr 11 

VI. From the Queen of Bohemia to Sir Edw. Herbert 13 
VII. From Sir Ralph Clare to Sir Henry Herbert ...... 15 

VIII. From Sir Henry Jones to the same 17 

IX. From Sir Henry Herbert to *** 20 

X. From Lord Scudamor« to Sir Henry Herbert .... 27 

XI. From Mary Herbert to the same . ; 28 

XII. From Edward Lord Herbert to the same 30 

XIII. From the same to the same 31 

XIV. From the same to the ^dme 31 

XV. From Prince Rupert to all Commanders, &c. .... 32 

XVI. From Lord Astiey to the Bailiff of Bewdley 34 

XVII. From Prince Maurice to the sam^e 35 

XVIII. From Gen. Fairfax to Capt. Edmund Steele .... 37 

XIX. From the same to the same 38 

XX. From the same to Robert Scawen, esq ; . . . 39 

XXI. From Jchn Selden to Sir Hemy Herbert 39 

XXII. From Edward Herbert to the same 40 

XXIII. From Lady Vere Every to the same 42' 

XXIV. From Sir H. Every to the same 44 

XXV. From Lady Vere Every to the same 45 

XXVI. From Sir Henry Herbert to Lady Vere Every . . 46 
XXVII. From Edward Herbert to Sir Henry Herbert . . 47 

XXVIII. From the same to the sair^e 48 

XXIX. From the same to the same 49 

XXX. From the same to the same 50 

XXXI. From Oliver Cromwell to Serjeant Wylde 51 

XXXII. From Gen. Monck to Lord Broghill 63 

XXXIII. From Lady Herbert to Sir Henry Herbert 56 

XXXIV. From Sir H. Herbert to Mr. Alderman § 57 



C iv ] 



XXXV. From the Mayor of Maidstone to Sir H. Herbert 5& 
XXXVI. From Sir H. Herbert to the Mayor of Maidstone 61 

XXXVII. From T. Herbert to Sir H. Herbert 63 

XXXVIII. From Lord Herbert to the same 66 

XXXIX. From the Bishop of Hereford to the same 68 

XL. From Lady Elizabeth Herbert to the same ; . 69 

XLI. From Henry Herbert to the same 71 

XLII. From Henry Herbert to the same 72 

XLIII. From Lord Herbert to the same 73 

XLIV. From Sir H. Herbert tojthe Earl of Manchester 74 
XLV. From Henry Herbert to Lady Eliz. Herbert ^. 7^ 

XLVI. From the same to the same 76 

XLVII. From Abraham Campion to Sir H. Herbert. . 77 

XLVIII. From Edward Lord Herbert to the same 78 

XLIX. From Capt. Herbert to the same 79 

L. From Edward Lord Herbert to the same .... 81 

LI. From the same to the same 82 

LII. From the same to the same 83 

LIII. From the same to the same 85 

LIV. From tbe same to the same 87 

LV. From the same to the same 88 

LVI. From the same to the same 89 

LVII. From the same to the same 89 

LVIII. From Capt. Herbert to the same 91 

IJX. From the same to the same 92 

LX. From T. Offley to the same 93 

LXI. From Rev. John Boraston to H. Herbert, esq. 93 

LXII. From Lord Newport to the same 98 

LXIIL From H. Herbert, esq; to Right Hon. Sir 

Edward Turner 100 

LXIV. From Charles Cornwallis to H. Herbert, esq. lOi 

LXV. From Henry Herbert to Chas. Cornwallis 102 

LXVI. From Sir F. Winnington to H. Herbert, esq. 103 

LXVII. From Monsieur de la Place to the same 104i 

LXVIII. From the same to the same 105 

LXIX. From the same to the same 107 

LXX. From the same to the same Il2 

LXXI. From the same to the same 113 

LXXII. From the same to the same 117 

LXXIII. From the same to the same 121 

LXXIV. From Lady E. Lyttleton to H. Herbert, esq. , . 122 



C V 1 

LXJCV. From v.... to H.Herbert t24 

LXXVI. From Vere Herbert to the same 130 

LXXVII. From Miss Offley to the same 131 

LXXVIII. From the same to the same 133 

LXXIX. From Lady Lyttleton to the same 136 

LXXX. From the same to the same 137 

LXXXI. From Sir Wm. Boughton to the same . . 138 

LXXXII. From H. Herbert to Sir Wm. Broughton .... 139 
LXXXni. From Sir Wm.Brovghton to H. Herbert .... 140 

LXXXIV. From the same to the same 140 

LXXXV. From Hemy Herbert to Sir Wm. Boughtoii . . 141 

LXXXVI. From Lord Belamountto H. Herbert 142 

LXXXVII. From Lord Goote to the same 142 

LXXXVIII. From Mr. Dowdeswell to the same I44 

LXXXIX. From Henry Herbert to King William 147 

XC. From Godwin Atwood to Henry Herbert .... 148 
XCI. From Lord Herbert to the Bailiff of Bewdley 150 

XCII. From Lady Inchiquin to Lord Herbert 151 

XCIII. From Lord Herbert to Lord Capell ,.. 153 

XCIV. From Lord Torrington to Lord Herbert .... 154 

XCV. From the same to the same 156^ 

XCVI. From the same to the same I57 

XCVII. From the same to the same 158 

XCVIII. From the same to the same I59 

XCIX, From the same to the same 160 

C. From the same to the same 160 

CI. From the same to the same 161 

ClI. From the same to the same 163 

CHI. From the same to the same 162 

CIV. From Dr. Thomas Knipe to the same . . ... . . 163 

CV. From Rev. Anthony Lucas to the same 166 

CVI. From Mr. J. Talbot to the same 167 

CVII. From Lady Every to the same 169 

CVIII. From the same to the same , 170 

CIX. From Monsieur Boyer to the same 171 

ex. From Lord Godolphin to the same 172 

CXI. From Lord Herbert to Lord Godolphin 174 

CXII. From Duke of Shrewsbury to Lord Herbert .. 175 

CXIII. From the same to the same 176 

CXIV. From the same to the same 177 

Appendix . , , , 179 



CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS. 



P. 23. Note. After " unknown," add, The writer of this letter was Mary, 
daughter to John Egerton earl of Bridgewater, and wife of Richard 
Herbert, son and heir of Edward, first Lord Herbert of Cherbury. 
They had issue four sons and four daughters. Edward succeeded 
his father in his title and estate, in 1G55 ; and be was succeeded in the 
same by his brother Henry Herbert in 1G78, a captain in the army, 
who died 1091, without i-sue, wheieby the title became extinct, till it 
was renewed in Henry Herbert, the son of Sir Henry Herbert, knight, 
and master of the Revels. 

42. Note. For " Sir Henry Vere," read " Sir Heary Every." 

50. Note. For " Y«^idow,'" read " first wife." Ed wavd Herbert married a 
second wife, Elizabeth, one of the daughters and coheirs of George 
Lord Cbandos, who suivived him : but he left no issue. 

58. Add to the Note. The whole of Sir Henry's estate htd been seques- 
trated, but he was ailovv^ed to componnd for £1330. — Catalogue of 
Compounders, letter H. 

66. Note. For " in whom," read," in whose brofher Henry, &c ;" and add, 
on the death of Lord Edward, without issue, in 1G78, his brother Henry 
succeeded to his title and estate. In 1672, beipg a captain of a troop 
of horse in Sir Henry Jones's regiment, he went over with them from 
UTidec the command of the Duke of Monmouth, to the assistance of the 
French King ; and was afterv^aids captain in the Duke of York's 
troop of horse. In 1078, he resigned his irJIitary emplojMents ; and 
was made Custos Rotalorum of Montgomeryshire in 1679. He went 
heartily into the Revolution ; and en the accession of William and 
Mary, v/as made coffner to the household. He died, without issue, 
the 21st April, 1091. — Coll. Peerage, Supp. vol. i. p. 269. 

69. First Note. Add, she was d.-ughter of Sir Robert Offley, of D'alby^ m 
the county of Leicester, knight. 



TO THE READER. 



THERE are few persons, of minds at all 
turned to the humbler branches of lite- 
rature, of leisure time, and solitary habits, who 
have not, in the course of years, collected a 
stock, more or less in quantity and vaiue^ of 
orio'inal, curious, or interesting compositions. 
Collections of this description will of course 
become more extensive as time roils on, since 
the taste for such accumulations, 

^' As if increase of appetite did grow 
" By what it fed on," 

is only sharpened by every fresh acquisition ; 

while the mass will be continually added to, by 

that liberal spirit of communication (by no 

means uncommon in our age and country), which 

pleases itself in contributing' to the enlargement 

of such literary stores. To such liberal and 

friendly communication, the Editor is, in g-reat 

measure, indebted for the contents of the folr 

lowing- pages ; and, were she at liberty to point 

out the particular soorces from whence her 

materials are drawn ; or, to acknowledge the 

assistance she has been favoured with, in the 



slight notes which accompany the letters ; she 
should feel J^ss hesitation iii' presenting" her 
volume to the public, and less doubt as to its 
favourable reception. She is, however, still 
willing to hope, that the connection which the 
letters will be found to have with the earlier 
history of a great and interesting family ; and 
the light they throw on the manners, events, 
and politics of the period to which they relate ; 
may of themselves prove passports to accept- 
ance and favour. 

By the younger females of this polished and 
enlightened age, in which the labours of the 
tapestry frame and the spinning-wheel have been 
exchanged for mental improvement, and orna- 
mental acquirements, it will perhaps scarcely 
be credited, that their countrywomen, of the 
seventeenth century, ladies of family and fashion? 
should have been so grossly ignorant of their 
native language, and the most simple and fami- 
liar rules of grammar, as will appear to have 
been the case from some of the following letters. 
They are, however, one and all, without any 
exception, given verbally and literally from the 
origmals, which are now in the hands of 

THE EDITOR. 



LETTER L 

Prom George Herbert* ^(? 3Ir, H* FlEiiBERT.t 

1618. 

rglHE disease which I am troubled with noW 
-^ is the shortness of time, for it hath beea 
my fortmie of late to have such sudden warning-^ 
that I have not leazure to impart unto you some 
of those observations which t have framed to 
myself in conversation; and whereof I would 

*The amiable character of George Herbert hath been beau- 
tifully delineated by that agreeable biographer, Isaac Walton, in 
his life of this excellent man. In his epistle to the reader, he pro- 
fesses, that this piece of Biography was so far a free-will offering, 
"' that it was written chiefly to please himself;" and it is conse- 
quently characterised by all that feeling, as well as simplicity, 
which an author diffuses over his subject, when it is peculiarly 
agreeable to him. Of this life, two gcod editions have been pub- 
lished within these few years ; one by Dr. Wordsworth, in his 
Ecclesiastical Biography, 1810; and another in Dr. Zouch's 
^' Walton's Lives," with valuable notes, 3d edition, 1817. In 
summing up Mr. Herbert's character, Walton's words are, " thus 
" he lived, and thus he died, like a saint, unspotted of the world, 
** full of alms-deed, full of humility, and all the examples of a 
" virtuous life ;" and, indeed, his life exhibits such a lovely 
picture of practical piety, extensive charity, and pure philan- 
throphy, as gives George Herbert, a just claim to the title of one 
" of the excellent ones of the earth/^ and of " them who excel 



C 2 ] 

not have you ignorant, ' As I shal find 
occasion, you shal receive them by peeces ; and 
if there by any such whieh you have found 

^' in righteousness." The influence of such christian virtue is well 
exemplified, in the impression it made on the mind of his brother ^ 
the celebrated Edward Lord Cherbury, who, deist as he was, could 
not avoid seeing, acknowledging, and paying a tribute to it, 
'' His life," says his Lordship, speaking of his brother George, 
** was most holy and exemplary, insomuch, that about Salisbury, 
** where he lived beneficed for many years, he was little less than 
" sainted." Lord Cherbury 's life, edited by H. Walpole, 1 778. — • 
Early in life his views seem to have been those of courtly honour 
and political importance ; but having relinquished them, jjartly 
from disappointment, and partly from having formed a proper 
estimate of their fallacy and worthlessness, he took orders, be- 
came prebendary of Lincoln, and rector of Bemerton. near Sa- 
lisbury.- He died between 1639 and 1640. His poems were 
published in London, 1635, under the title of " The Temple ;" and 
Ms " Priest to the Temple," in 1652. Lord Bacon dedicated to 
him a translation of some Psalms into English verse. Gen. 
Diction. Life of Lord Cherbury, ut supra, p. 12. See also 
Nichols's Literary Anecdotes, vol. i. p. 518. He was born A.D, 
J593, on the 3d of April. 

t Henry Herbert was the sixth son of Richard Herbert, esq; 
and Magdalen Newport, daughter of Sir Richard Newpo t, and 
born A.D, 1680. His brother. Lord Herbert of Cherbury, in 
his curious history of his own life, has made the following men- 
tion of Henry. " Henry, after he had been brought up in 
*' learning, as the other brothers were, was sent by his friends 
" into France, where he attained the language of that country in 
"perfection, after which he came to Court, and was made Gen- 
" tlemanofthe King's Privy Chamber, and Master of the Revells; 
" by which means, as also by a good marriage, he attained to|great 
*' fortunes, for himself and his posterity to enjoy. He also hath 
" criven several proofs of his courage in duelis, and otherwise, 
" being no less dextrous in the waj' s of the Court, as having gotten 
^' much by it.'' P. 13. The following particulars from MSS. in 
the editor's hands, will throv/ some light on the circumstances of 
3irH. Herbert's life; and the history of his progeny. 



[ 3 ] 

tiseful to yourself^ communicate them to me. 
You live in a brave nation, where, except you 
wink, you caimot but see many brave examples. 

" Itt pleased tlie Kin^, att my Lord Chamberline's motion, to 
*' sende for mee unto his chamber, by James Palmer, and to 
" knigfcte mee, with my Lord Marquis Hamilton's sworde. He 
" was pleased likewise to bestowe many good wordes upon mee, 
" and to receive mee as Master of the Revells. At Wilton, this 
" 7th August, 1623." 

" I sente the certificate of my knitehood, under my Lord Cham- 
" berline's hande, to the Earl Marshall, whereupon he certified to 
" the office of the Harolds, and ^twas entered in their booke the 
" 14th of August, 1623. The Harolds had no fee, but the Lord 
" Marshal's Secretarys 10s. 

" Sir Thomas Morgan, my Lord Chamberline^s steward, was 
" knited within an hour after mee, att the same house at Wilton, 
" and payde the same fee. 

" I was sworen King James his servant, by Sir George Keene, 
*' in ordinary gentleman of his privy chamber, the 20th March, 
" 1621, atWliitehall." 



^' My son William Herbert, was borne on Monday the 1st of 
" May, in the yeare of our Lord 1626. 

" His godfathers and godmother : 
" William Earle of Pembroke, Lord Steward of his Majesty^s 

" household. 
" Philip Earle of Montgomery, Lord Chamberline of his Majesty^s 

" household. 
" The Lady Danvers, my mother, and his grandmother. 

" On Mayday, 1642, William Herbert is sixteene yeares olde. 

" My daughter Vere Herbert was born on Wendsday, being 
'* the 29th August, in the yeare of our Lord 1627. 
" Her godmothers and godfather : 
" The Countess ofBarkshyre, Dovager, a Vere by name, and syster 

" to the Earle of Oxford and to the Countess of Montgomery. 
" The Countess of Carnarvon, sole daughter to the Earle of 

*' Montgomery . 
" Sir Ilemy M Idmay, master of the King's Jewel-house. 

" On the 29th Aug. in 1642, Vere Herbert is fifteene years olde, 
'- ■ B 2 



[ 4 ] 

Bee covetous, then, of all good which you see in 
Frenchmen, whether it be in knowledge, or in 
fashion, or in words ; for I would have you, even 

*' My daughter, Frances Herbert, was borne on a Munday, the 
*' 29th December, 1628. 

" Her godfather and godmothers: 
" The Lady Frances Stanley^ Countess of Bridgwater. 
" Mrs. Coventry, wife to my Lord Coventry that now is. 
" The Lord Gray, Earle of Stanford. 

" On the 29th December 1642, Frances Herbert is fourteen© 
'^^ years olde. 

" They were all borne at Woodford, and christened at Wood- 
" fordj by Mr. Isaacson, now Dr. Isaacson, parson of Woodford. 

" This certificate of their severall ages was taken out of my 
" booke of entrys the 24th December, 1641, by Henry Herbert^ 
'' at Woodford." 



*** On Monday the 24th July 1654, it pleased the Lord to deil- 
"^^ Ver my wife safe of a son, between sixe and seaven of the 
** clocke in the eveninge, by the hande of Mrs. Sumner, the 
^^ mydwife. 

" My sister the Lady Browne was preiSent, Mrs. Reaves the 
" drye nurse, Mrs. Browne, and Sarah Cogland and Atm Knap, 
'' servants. 

*f At my brother ETClyn's house in Kinge's-sti'eet, inCoveht- 
" Garden. 

** Praysedbe God for all his mercies in Christ Jesus'; his 
" excesse of mercies in our Jesus, for his mercies endure for ever. 

''On Thursday the 12th July, 1655, it pleased the Lord to 
^' deliver my wife safe of a daughter, about three in the after- 
*' noone, by the hande of Mrs. Sumner, the mydwife. At my 
^* brother Evelyn's house in King's-street, in Covent-Garden. 

*' Mrs. lleeves and Mrs. Matson were present, and servants ; 
" the drye nurse came not, till my wife was delivered. 

" Praysedbe the Lord for his mercies, for they endure for ever. 

*' She was christened on Friday in the afternoon, about fourc 
^ of the clocke, being the 26th of July, 1655, at my brother 



[51 

in speeches, to observe so much, as when you 
meet with a witty French speech, try to speak 
the like in English: so shall you play a good 
marchant, by transporting French commodities 
to your own country. Let there be no kind of 
excellency which it is possible for you to attain 
to, which yon seek not ; and have a good con- 
ceit of your wit, mark what I say, have a good 
conceit of your wnt; that is, be proud, not with 
a foolish vanting of yourself when there is no 
caus, but by setting a just price of your qua- 
lities : and it is the part of a poor spirit to under- 
value himself and blush. But I am out of my 
time : when I have more time, you shall hear' 

" Evelyn's house in King^s-street, in Covent-Garden, and named 
*' Magdalen, my mother's christian name. 

" Her godmothers, the Lady Jones, widowe of Sir Henry 
*' Jones, baronet, deceased, my late nephewe,the son of my eldest 
*^ sister. My neece, Magdalen Vaughan. 

" My brother, Gabriel Offley, her godfather, youngest brother 
^* of my wife.'' 



f' Here lys the bodys of Mary Herbert, who dyd Aug. 61% 
*^ 1666; and of Richard, who dyd March 10th, 1(569; and of Sir 
" Henry Herbert, father of Mary and Riehard, by Dame Elizabeth, 
" his wife ; Master of the Reveles, and of the Privy Chamber, to 
*' King James the 1st, King Charles the 1st, and King Charles the 
« 2d. He died Aprill 27, 1673. 

" Here lys Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Henry Herbert and Dame 
'* Elizabeth his wife, who married Charles Hore, of Cagford, in the 
" county of Devon, esq; Aug. 27th, 1694 ; and dyd in childbed 
•' July the 30th, 1695. 

" Here also lyes Dame Elisabeth Herbert, widow of the said 
*' Sir Henry Herbert. She dyed July 7th, 1698. 

" Vita quid est Iwminum nisi spes incerta metusque, 
" Hcec inter dubii vivimus et Tnorimw, 



[ 6 ] 

more; and write you freely to mee in your letters, 
for I am your ever loving brother, 

G. HERBERT. 

P. S. My brother is somewhat of the same 
temper, and perhaps a little more mild, but you 
will hardly perceive it.* 

To my dear brother, 
Mr. Henry Herbert, at Paris. 

LETTER II. 
From the same to Sir Henry HERBERT,t 

PEAR BRO; 

IT is so long since I heard from you, that 
I long to heare both how you and your'sdoe: 
and also what becomes of you this sommer. It 
is the whole amount of this letter, and therefore 
entertaine it accordingly from 

^^^ Your very affectionate bro ; 

If June, Bemerton, G. HERBERT. 

My wife's and neeces' service to you. 

* This alludes, probably, to Lord Edward Herbert's warmth 
of temper ; for he tells us himself, in his own romantic life ; that 
** passion and choler were infirmities to which all his race were 
"subject.'^ P. 13. The remarkable events of his life illustrate 
the truth of this honest confession ; for they were such as realized 
all the adventures of fictitious knight-errantry. 

f This letter must have been written after the year 1630, since 
Mr. G. Herbert was inducted into Bemerton, from whence he 
dates it, on the 26th April, in that year. — Walton's Life to George 
Herbert J p. 72. Zouch's edition. 



m 



[ 7 ] 

i 

LETTER HI. 
From the same to the same. 

DEAR BRO; 

I Was glad of your Cambridge iiewes, 
but you joyed me exceedingly with your rela- 
tion of my Lady Diicliess's forwardnes in our 
church building. J ^ am glad I used you in it, 
and you have no cause to be sorry, since it is God's 
business. If there fall out yet any rubb, you 
shall heare of me; and your offering of yourself 
to move my Lords of Manchester and Bool ling- 
brook is very welcome to mee. To shew a for- 
wardness in religious works is a good testimony 
of a good spirit. The Lord bless yon, and 
make you abound in every good worke, to the 
joy of your ever loving brother, 

March 21, Bemerton. G. HERBERT. 

To my deere brother, 
Sir Henry Herbert, at Court. 

X Mr. Herbert, wMe a deacon, had been presented, in 1626, to 
ihe prebend of Longton-Ecclesia, in tlie diocese of Lincoln, the 
church of which place he found in so a ruinous state, as rendered 
it unfit for public service. " By his own, and the contribution of 
" many of his kindred, and other noble friends, he undertook the 
** re-edification of it." Life, 54. , When he succeeded to Bemer- 
ton, he found this church also, as well as the parsonage-house, 
dilapidated ; and proceeded, in the same conscientious manner, 
to put both into compleat repair. It is to thi§ pious work, that 
he probably alludes in the above letter. 



[ 8 ] 

LETTER IV. 
From the same to the same,* 

3DEAR BRO j 

THAT you did not only entertain my 
proposals, but advance them, was lovingly done, 
and like a good brother. Yet truly it was none of 
iny meaning, when I wrote, to putt one of our 
neeces into your hands but barely what I 
"Wrote I meant, and no more; and am glad that 
although you offer more, yet you will doe, as you 
write, that alsoe. I was desirous to putt a good 
mind into the way of charity, and that was all I 
intended. For concerning your offer of receiv- 
ing one, I will tell you what I wrote to our 
eldest brother, when he urged one upon me, and 
but one, and that at my choice. I wrote to him 
that I would have both or neither; and that 
upon this ground, because they were to come 
into an unknown country, tender in knowledge, 

* The above letter is a master-piece of artful composition, ex- 
ercised in a most praise-worthy cause. The feeling manner in 
which the wiiter touches on the cruelty of separating the young 
people ; the interesting way in which he introduces the third un- 
friended and solitary niece ; the delicate mode in which he 
unfolds his secret wish that his brother should take this young 
person under his protection ; and the indirect method in which 
lie enforces it as a duty upon him so to do, are strong proofs of 
George Herbert's feeling, discretion, and deep knowledge of the 
iiuman heart. 



I 



C 9 ] 

sense, and a^e, and knew none but one who 
could be no company to them. Therefore I 
considered that if one only came, the comfort 
intended would prove a discomfort. Since that 
I have seen the fruit of my observation, for they 
have lived so lovingly, lying', eating, walking, 
praying, working, still together, that I take a 
comfort therein; and would not have to part them 
yet, till I take some opportunity to let them 
know your love, for which both they shall, and I 
doe, thank you. It is true there is a third sister, 
whom to receive were the greatest charitie of 
all, for she is youngest, and least looked unto; 
having none to doe it but her school-mistresse, 
and you know what those mercenary creatures 
are. Neither hath she any to repair unto at 
good times, as Christmas, &c. which, you 
know, is the encouragement of learning all the 
year after, except my cousin Bett take pitty of 
her, which yet at that distance is some difficulty. 
If you could think of taking her, as once you 
did, surely it w^ere a great good deed, and I 
would have her conveyed to you. But I judge 
you not: doe that which God shall put into your 
hart, and the Lord bless all your purposes to 
his glory. Yet, truly if you take her not, I am 
thinking to do it, even beyond my strengthe ; 
. especially at this time, being more beggarly 
now than I have been these many years, as 
having spent two hundred pounds in building; 
which to me that have nothing yett, is very much. 



[ 10 ] 

But though I both consider this, and your ob- 
servation, also, of the. unthankful ness of kindred 
bredd up, (which generally is very true,) yet I 
care not ; I forgett all thinges, so I may doe them 
good who want it. So I doe my part to them, 
lett them think of me what they will or can. 
I have another judge, to whom I stand or falL 
Yf I should regard such things, it were in 
another's power to defeat my charity, and evill 
shold be stronger then good : but difficultie 
are so farr from cooling christians, that they 
whett them. Truly it grieves me to think of 
the child, how destitute she is, and that in this 
necessary time of education. For the time of 
breeding is the time of doing children good j 
and not as many who think they have clone 
fairly, if they leave them a good portion after 
their decease. But take this rnle, and it is an 
outlandish one, which I commend to you as 
being now a father, " the best-bredd child hath 
" the best portion." Well; the good God bless 
you more and more; and all yours ; and make your 
family, ahousefull of God's servants. So prayes 

Your ever loving brother, 

G. HERBERT. 

My wife's and neeces' service. 

To my very dear brother 
Sir Henry Herbert^at Court, 



[ 11 ] 

LETTER V. 
From Dr Jonisr Donne* to Sir Robert Carr.§ 

SIR, 

I Presume you rather try what you can 
doe, in mee, than what I can cloe in verse, yon 
knowe my uttermost when it was at best, and 

* The only letter (as the editor believes) in the present collec- 
tion, which has already been before the public, is this from Dr, 
Donne, which was printed in a volume, entitled " Poems by 
*' John Donne, Savoy, 1669." It is introduced into this series 
for several reasons. 1st, Because the transcript is made from 
the original letter, and signed by the Doctor, with an orthography 
of his name different from the usual one, Dunn, instead of 
Ponne. 2dly, Because it is not accompanied in the edition of 
his works, above referred to, with any illustration. And, 3dly, 
because an endorsement on it, in the handwriting of Sir Henry 
Herbert, seems to throw some light on a passage in Walton's 
Life of Dr. Donne, which is not explained by the biographer. 

This pious man, and powerful preacher, was born, according 
to Walton, in the year 1573. He entered, later than usual m life, 
into holy orders, by the persuasion of James 1st, who often ex- 
pressed great satisfaction of his having been the means of intro- 
ducing so worthy a person into the church. We hear much of 
him as a poet, but little as a divine, though in the latter character 
he had great merit. His " Pseudo-Martyr," in which he effec- 
tually confuted the doctrine of the papal supremacy, is the most 
valuable of his prose writings. His Sermons abound too much 
with the pedantry of the time in which they were written^to be at 
all esteemed in the present age. Some time before his death, 
when he was emaciated with study and sickness, lie caused 
himself to be wrapped in a sheet, w hich was gathered over his 
head in the manner of a shroud ; and having closed his eyes, he 
had his portrait taken, which was kept by liis bed-side as long as 
he lived, to remind him of mortality. The effigy on his moiiu- 
ment in St, Paul's Church was done after this portrait. He 



C 12 ] 

even then I did best, when I had least truth for 
my subject. In this present case there is soe 
much truth, as it defeats all poetry. Call, 
therefore, this paper by what name you will ; 
and if it be not worthy of him, nor of you, 
nor of mee, smother it, and bee that the 
sacrifice. If you had comaunded mee to have 
waited on his body to Scotland, and preached 
there, I should have embraced the obligacon 
with more alacrity. But I thanke you that you 
would comaund that which I was loth to doe ; 
for even that hath given a tincture of merit to 
the obedience of. Sir, 

Your poore friende, and servant in Christ, 

JOHN DUNN. 

died March 31, 1631. {Granger.) On the back of the letter from 
whence the above is printed, are the following words, in Sir 
Henry Herbert's hand, Miserum est ah lis Icsdi, de quibus non possis 
quceri; which seem to have some connection with a passage in 
Walton's life of Dr. Donne, to this effect: " He was once and but 
" once, clouded with the King's displeasure, and it was about this 
'*time; which was occasioned by some malicious whisperer, 
" who told his Majesty that Dr. Donne had put on the general 
'* humour of the pulpits," &g. It is not improbable, therefore, 
that the Marquis Hamilton, a favourite of King James I. on 
whose decease the poem alluded to in the letter had been com- 
posed, was the malicious whisperer referred to by Isaac Walton ; 
and the person to whom the Latin sentence on the back of Donne's 
letter was applied by Sir Henry Herbert. The poem occurs in 
the volume before mentioned, p. 327, beginning thus, " Whether 
" that soul which now comes up to you," &c. 

§ Sir Robert Carr, afterwards Earl of Ancram, Dr. Donne, 
at his going into Germany, presented to Sir Robert a copy of his 
Biathamtos, with a letter which Dr. Zouch has given in ^ aot^.— 
Donne's Life^ vol, i. p. 134. 



[ 1.3 



LETTER Vr. 

From the Queen of Bohemia* to Sir ED\r. 
Herbert. t 

SIR EDW. HERBERT, 

I Pray be assured that my bein^ ia 
childbed hath hindered all this while from thank- 

"* Elizabeth, eldest daugliter of James I., (married to Frede- 
rick, the Palsgrave, or Elector Palatine, eldest son of the King 
of Bohemia,) whom Kirkton, in his " History of the Church of 
*' Scotland," characterizes as having past " the most unhappy 
*'■ life of any woman in the world/' The crown of Bohemia 
being offered by the States to Frederick, in"1619; he, in an evil 
hotir, accepted it, and thereby plunged himself and family into 
ruin, and deluged Europe with a sea of blood/^ Speaking of 
Elizabeth, Mr. Granger says, " This amiable Princess, who only 
" saw a phantom of royalty, and had nothing more than the empty 
" title of Queen, bore her misfortunes with decency, and even 
*' equanimity/' So engaging was her behaviour, that she was, in 
the Low Countries^ called " the Queen of Hearts." When her 
" fortunes were at the lowest ebb, she never departed from her 
" dignity ; and poverty and distress seemed to have no other 
" effect upon her, but to render her more an object cf admiration 
*' than she was before," — Vol. L 317. It is a curious circum- 
stance, that this illustrious couple were married by harms, which 
were asked in the Chapel Royal. — 'WinwoocVs Memorials, Hi. 431, 
Sir Edward Herbert was honoured by Elizabeth with her parti- 
cular esteem and regard. He made two visits to her and the Pa- 
latine, when they resided at Heydelberg, (as he mentions in his 
life,) and was received by them both in the most kind and hos- 
pitable manner ; and a correspondence was maintained between 
him and the Queen, after she and her husband were driven from 
their throne, and had sought shelter in Holland. It must have 
added much to the misfortunes of Elizabeth, that she was de- 
serted in them by her own father aud, met with no_ sympathy 



[ 14 ] 

ing" you for your letter, and no forgetfulness of 
mine to you, to whome I have ever had obli- 

from Iier brother, Charles T. — -Need's History of the Puritans, vol. 
V, 94 — 260. It is also curious, that the only public interest 
taken in England in her affairs, was by the Long Parliament.— 
jRushworth, jjart Hi. vol. i. p. 316 — 357. 

f This singular compound of reason and passion, philosophy 
and enthusiasm, made a considerable figure, both in the courtly 
circles and political world, during the reign of James I. The 
events of his extraordinaij life, as told by himself, convince us 
that the writers of chivalrous romance took all their representa- 
tions of character and manners from actual existence. The late 
Lord Orford, in his " Royal and Noble Authors,^' has given us 
the following particulars of this celebrated courtier, and dis- 
tinguished writer. "One of the greatest ornaments of the 
" learned peerage was a man of martial spirit and a profound 
*' understanding. He was made Knight of the Bath, when Prince 
" Henry was installed for the Garter; and being sent embassador 
" to France, to interpose in behalf of the Protestants in that 
" kingdom, he returned the insolence of the great constable, 
*' Luynes, with the spirit of a gentleman, without committing 
" his dignity of embassador. It occasioned a coolness be- 
*' tween the Courts, but the blame fell wholly on the Con- 
" stable. In 1G25, Sir Edward was made a baron of Ireland ; 
"in 1631, of England; but in the cause of his country sided 
"with its representatives. He died in 1648; having written 
** ' Be Veritate, &c.' a book in which the author asserts the 
" doctrine of innate ideas, &c. ; another, ' De Religione Gen- 
" ' tilium, &c. ;' a third, ' Expeditio Buckingharai, &c. ;' a 
" fourth, (by far the best of his literary productions,) entitled, 
" * Life and Reign of Henry the Eighth ;' and a fifth, called, 
" * Occasional Poems.' He is buried at St. Giles's in the Fields, 
**but had erected an allegoric monument for himself in the 
" church of Montgomery ; a description of which is given by 
*' Lloyd. His Lordsliip had been indemnified by the Parliament 
" for his Castle of Montgomery, which they thought proper to de- 
" molish.'' — -Vol ii. 213. In Dr. Leiand his Lordship has found 
an opponent far superior to himself in acuteness, perspicuity, 
and logical precision j who has completely and satisfactorily 



[ 15 ] 

gation for your love, which I will ever ac- 
knowledge and seeke to requite in what I can; 
w^hich I entreat you to be confident of, and that 
these lines may assure you of it from her that is 
ever your most assured friend, 

E, ELIZABETH, 
The HagJh ^^^'^s llh June. 



LETTER VIL 

Fi'om Sir Kat.ph Clare* to Sir Henry 
Herbert, Knight, 

Sir,— I have returned your owne particular, 
accompanied with another of Sir Ed w. Blount's,§ 

answered his deistical objections; and demonstrated, that his 
celebrated confirmation of the truth of his book, " De Veritate," 
was a delusion of tlie author's imagination, instead of *' a sign 
" from heaven." The texture of his Lordship's mind, indeed, 
and the warmth of his temperament, rendered him peculiarly 
adapted, to admit such impressions of the fancy, as serious rea- 
lities. A specimen of the nature of Lord Herbert's theism will 
be seen in a prayer, composed by him, in the Appendix. 

* Sir Ralph Clare, Knight of the Bath, of Caldwell, Worcester 
shire, eldest son and heir of Sir Francis Clare, knight. He waia 
(as his epitaph in Kidderminster church informs us) servant unto 
Prince Henry ; made Knight of the Eath at the coronation of 
Charles I. whom he attended in all his fortunes. He was 
equally loyal to Charles II.; and died 21st April, 1670, aged 84 
years. There is a print of him in Nash's Hist. Worcestershire, 
V. ii. p. 45. 

§ Sir Edward Blount, baronet, of Kinlet, in the county of 
3alop, and lord of the manor of Kidderminster ; who died 13th 
Nqvember, 1630, aged 76, His Latin epitaph ii^ Kidderminster 



[ 16 ] 

^nd soe iiuicli of his lettre as conceihes yonr 
busines. By which you will easily discerne the 
difference of the valiewes^ and his opinion 
upon the whole matter, and soe may make 
your barg-aine with the more advantage. His 
better judg-ement warnes mee not to invite you 
to a purchase ; otherwise I could fi nde in my 
hart to tell you, that I should be very glad of soe 
good a neighbour. But playe the best of your 
owne game, without considering the standers 
by ; and yf you can devise how 1 may bee able 
to doe you further service, in this or in any thing 
else, I pray you (without ceremony) command 
your affectionat servant, 

R. CLARE. 
St. James's, this 2d March, 1627. 

Ml/ opinion of Ribsf ord'\'.----Tonch'ing the situ- 
ation of the house, I consider it to be pleasant 
for the somer, but not healthful in the winter. 

Further, the estate, standing a great part of 

it yn coppice wood, doth not strengthen a lord 

with any multitude of able tenants. 

eiiurch describes him as a man of ancient and honourable family* 
highly endowed with excellent mental and intellectual qualities ; 
devoid of ambition, and attached to private and domestic life; 
generous, but prudent; elegant, but economical; respected by 
his superiors ; adored by his inferiors ; and beloved by all. 

t Notwithstanding the unfavourable opinion expressed by Sir 
Edward Blount, respecting the purchase of Ribsford, Sir Henry 
bought the estate and made it the country residence of his fa- 
mily. It was an ancient moated house, in the neighbourhood of 
Bewdley, in the county of Worcester. 



[ 17 :] 

The house itself is much in decay. 

Touching the purchase. I hold that it is not 
fitt to give for the bare rent of the dimeanes, 
so much by two yeares purchase, as for so much 
land in yerely valew. 

I hold further, a reversion after three lives not 
to exede four yeres purchase ; after two lives, 
seven yeares purchase ; after one lief, nine yeares 
purchase. 

I have credably heard, that old Sir John 
Lewson, of Kent, did hold, that he that had an 
estate for three lives in possessiorj, had as equal 
in value as three partes of the inheritance de- 
vided into four partes. 

About fourteen yeares purchase £3500 for 
the demesnes. 

To my much honoured, good friend, Sir H. Herbert, these. 

LETTER VIII. 

From Sir Henry Jones,* to Sir Henry 
Herbert. 

Noble Brother, — I Am given to under- 
stande by the relatione of dyvers gentlemen and 

* " Elizabeth, my eldest sister, was married to Sir Henry 
"Jones, of Albemarles, who had by her one son and two 
" daug;hters ; the latter of her time was the most sickly and mi- 
" serable that hath been known in our times, while, for the 
" space of about fourteen years, she languished and pined away 
** to skin and bones, and at last died in London, and lyeth buried 
" in a church, called , near Cheapside/'.-*7%e Lifi 

•f Edward Lord Herbert j p. 15. 

C 



i 18 ] 

travaylers, that my wief is muche afflicted 
with the , hard usage she doth suffer at the 
Doctor's hands, and that his disposition is very 
harshe towardes her ; whereof I wonder muche 
to heare, for I have found his carriage both 
fayre and lovinge, and cold hardlie believe 
the contrarie, but that it is soe publiquely re- 
ported by manie, that 1 am greately ashamed 
to heare of it : wherefore I would intreate you 
to doe me the courtesye, and in your brotherly 
affectione to her, to take some notice thereof, 
^nd, accordinge as you finde cause, see that 
shee may not be wronged or debarred of her 
owne, as farr foorth as shall be needfull to sup- 
ply her occasiones; and if anie should conceave 
that 1 doe this as makinge account to receave 
anie benefitt from her, I take God to witnesse, 
that I doe not expect the vallew of a peaie of all 
that shee hath, but onely one diamond, which 
was my father's ; and that, I hope, if God inables 
her to speake at her dicing, shee will take order 
that I may have it. As for the rest, I doe not 
regarde them when I am bereaved of my wief^^ 
whoe is dearer unto mee then any thinge ells ; 
and my desire is, if 1 could, to helpe her rather 
then to seeke of her ; but the greate chardge I 
have been lately put unto in settlinge my 
children hath muche disabled me, that I cannot 
doe as I would; and albeit the one did not 
match herself with my consent, yet my care was 
Tieverthelesse to make and provide her a portione 



[ 19 1 

as g-ood as her sisters. Aad nowe being" dis- 
burthened of them, my next care shal be to ridd 
myselfe out of debt, wherewith ray minde is 
muche perplexed, and then I hope to live at some 
more ease towards my latter dayes ; for hitherto 
I could never be out of troubles and cares. 
Thus hopeing" to heare from you touchinge 
what I write, with the remembrance of my true 
affection to yourself, and my service to your no- 
ble ladye, I rest, yourtruely honouringe brother, 

H. JOHNES. 

Abermarles, 21th Feb. 1633. 

I pray remember me to all persons, and t 
"would desire to knowe how my cozen, William 
Herbert, your sonne, is. If he be ready for the 
ridinge of a horse, I will provide him with a 
Welch nagg, that shal be as mettlesome as himr 
selfe. I pray you remember my service to my 
brother, my Lord Herbert. 

To the Right Woorll. his muche honored brother. Sir Henry 
Herbert, at the signe of the Shipp, in the upper end oi 
Bucklersbury, these, London. 

If he doth not lodge there, intreate them to direct the bringer 
wher to finde him. 



c 2 



C 20 1 

LETTER IX. 

From Sir Henry Herbert^ ^o *** 

June, 1639. 
When the King-e was tn Spaine, it 
troubled my Lord of Carlisle, meeting with my 
Lord of Hollandj that his mule had not given 

* " At the game time that the King (Charles I.) resolved to 
** raise an army, he caused enquiry to be made, what obligations 
** lay upon his subjects to assist him, both as he went himself 
** in person, and as it was an expedition against the Scots ; and 
" in the tenure which many men held their estates by, he found 
'* that the kings had usually, when they went to make war in 
" their own persons, called as many of their nobility to attend 
" upon them as they thought fit. Therefore he summoned most 
" of the nobility of the kingdom, without any consideration of 
" their affections, ho\r they stood disposed to that service, to 
" attend upon him by a day appointed, and throughout the ex- 
'*pedition." — Clarendon, vol. i, parti. 115. Sir Henry Herbert, 
holding a knight's fee, was summoned on this occasion, and pro- 
ceeded to join the royal army at York. From his MS. accounts 
of the expenses of this expedition, it appears that he set out 
from Ribsford the 7th April, 1639, and that his army equipage, 
consisting of three men and five horses, reached York the 13th. 
** On Saturday in the aftemoone, the 13th of Aprill, my horses 
" came to Yorke, and I allowe them 2 bushells of oates a weeke, 
" beginninge from Saturday night, for the five horses ; a bushel! 
"ofbeanes; a busheil of bran/' "Wee came to Bai-wicke," 
says he, " the 27th Maye, being Munday ; upon the 28th my 
** accounts were evened; of £62:12:3, there did" remain* 
*^ £7:3: 11/' " On Tuesday the 18th June, the peace was con- 
" eluded ; the articles on the Kinge's part signed by Secretarye 
" Cooke and Secretarye Sterlinge, on the Covenanters by E. 
" Wrothes and E. Dumfermlin. On Thursday the 20th, the 

" Covenanters discharged their army ; thern delivereji Edinbo- 

" rough Castle to my Lord Hamilton, who put Generall Ryven 

" into it. Other thinges performed. 

" The K. discharged his army the 22 June, on the Saturday, 

" and same morninge qvdtted the field, and went] for Barwicke : 



[ 21 ] 

liim the variety of a stumble ; if he were alive 
to see the government of our army and affaires, 
he woulde find variety enough : variety of lyes, 
contradictions, oathes, ignoranse, feares, and 
disorders. Truthe is as great a stranger to our 
campe, as good nature to the country people ; 
a man may bee lovi^zy at more certainty than 
cleanly ; contradictions as familiar as similes; 
oathes as complements; ignoranse as pastimes] 
fearfcs as fishes ; and disorders as youthe. The 
Anticovenanters of the Scots excellin the three 
first, and our officers and jeunesse in the latter ; 
they take themselves to bee at home, and wee in 
a progress ; when every motion tendes to the 
harbouringe or rousinge ofthedeere, an alarme 
with them is of no more consequence then a 
hoUowe. 

Tyme may mende some of this, or, if it doe 
not, Lesley* will be the reformer, and teeche us 

"20 dayes' paye to the souldyers to carye them home. The 
•^ Kynge gave the horses to the officers. The 22, on Saterday, 
" I kiste the Kyng's hand at Barwicke. Lay the first night at 
" Anwick, 24 ; the second at Morpithe, 12 ; the third at Durham, 
" 24 ; the fourth at North-Alerton, 24; the fifthe at Makelfeyld, 
<' 27; the sixthe at Tuxford, 33; the seaventh at Stanford, 37; 
" the eighthe at Cambridge, 33 ; the ninth at Cambridge ; the 
" tenthe 37/' (MS. penes me.) In the Appendix, 

No. 2, will be found some very curious manuscript observations, 
or notes, made by Sir Henry Herbert, during the time he was 
attached to this northern expedition. 

* David Lesley, who was an able, though, in some instances^, 
an unfortunate general, learned the art of war under the great 
Grtistavus Adolphus. He had the honour of defeating, but with 
a much superior army, the broken forces of the heroic Marquis 
of Montrose. He reduced Cromwell to great strait* before the 



[ 22 ] 

US more maners and discretion. Wee have past 
throgh many mistes, and are come to see Lesley 
25,000 stronge; the five thousand only were 
remembered ; foure or five thousand at moste ; 
that the CovenantersJ could never make more ; 
that they would scatter, and come into the 
Kinge, so soone as he appeared at Barwick* 
But that's to begin ; for not a man of quality is 
scene to come from them, and they doe rather 
growe than diminishe ; and are likely to holde 
together, havinge endured the fi rste assault, and 
havinge common consent for their union. You 
may add, the conjuration of the women, whose 
eloquence is witchcraft, and opinion faith ; their 
malice is beyond the malice of brothers, and 
their poyson the poyson of aspes. 

The Lord Marquis of Hamilton's mother 
commands a regiment, and leade them into 

battle of Dunbar ; and fougM that fatal battle merely in obe- 
dience to the pressing importunities of his soldiers. These de- 
luded people were told by their ministers, that they had been 
wrestling with the Lord all night in prayer, and were very con- 
fident that they had obtained the victory. Cromwell, when he 
saw them advancing to the engagement, exclaimed with no less 
confidence, that "the Lord had delivered them into his hands.'' 
Lesley was a second time defeated by Cromwell, at the battle of 
Worcester; where he was taken prisoner, and sent to the Tower. 
He was upon the Restoration set at liberty, and created baron 
of Newark. — Granger i. 51. 

X For an interesting view of the Scotch Covenanters, see 
" Kirkton's Secret and True History of the Church of Scotland. 
" Edinburgh, 1817 ;'' and that masterly production, the second 
story in "Tales of my Lanciiord," a work of unequalled power, 
in which the tale alone is the ofi'spring of fancy ; but the inci- 
dents, situations, manners, and opinions, are all corroborated 
by the facts of authentic history. 



I 23 ] 

Edenboroughe with a case of pistols at her 
sadle, and a case at her sydes. 

Our ladys are not more skilful! in curling-e and 
poudringe then the Scotchewomen in charginge 
and dischargeinge their pistols.* They exercise 
the postures too ; and may prove dangerous 
Amazons, in their weapons rather than beauty, 
which is no petard nor grenado : Lesley had 
no better instruments of warr then their eyes, 
they could draw no blood- It may prove the 
subject of a comedye hereafter. 

The quarell began among- the women ; and 
ther the fyer burnes still, (regarding to bishops,) 
not to be putt out, but in putting them out, (i. e, 
the bishops J J and 'tis now a question, whether 
they will accept of the conditions they demanded: 
the space is great 'twixt conditions offered and 
demanded ; as wee have fayl'd in our conditions, 
so they have gayn'd by our denyaljs. No an- 
swers have begott new questions ; and it may 
bee doubted whether they will seeke us any 
more by petition or letter. They shewe us men 
now, andarmes; men resolved to defend e them- 
selves, rather then offende us; men of one 
mynde, like saylers in a storme ; one and all ; ail 
laboringe at their taclings. 

* For the zeal of the Scotch ladies, and their influence in ex- 
citing the spirit of the men, see Clarendon, in his account of 
this expedition. " As heretofore, in the case of St. Paul, (Acts 
" xiii. 50,) the Jews stirred up the devout and honourable wo- 
" men, so the women and ladies of the first quality declfired 
"themselves of the party; and with ail the reproachps imagin- 
" able, made war upon the bishops, as introducers of popery and 
" superstition." — History of the ReleUwn,vol.vi parti, p. 110. 



C 24 ] 

Their civility s have been greate,* as if they 
desired they should begett civility, and bee the 
parents of others. Many of oar nation passinge 
into their country, to take a view and make 
proclamation, have encountered with wine, 
meade, and kinde welcome; the Kinge's, 
Queene's, and Prince's healthe drunke. Yes- 
terday too of my Lord of Clifford's troope were 
taken, shoeing* of their horses, and kept too 
nightes ; they were weall treated, discharged 
freely, and tould, that as it should coste them 
nothing, so they were glad of the occasion of 
expressinge their love to their good neighbours 
of England. 

The country is better than I did expect it, 
and the people worse. Bar wi eke may be com- 
pared with London for situation, and ex eel Is it 
in salmon ; the provision is cheape, if discreet 
people had the managinge of it. He that will 
eate a botle of hay for a wager, may come here 
and win it. Cleanlyness is scarce here as cherys. 

* Several causes as conspiring to produce this friendly feel- 
ing are enumerated by Clarendon, on the part of the Scotch 
towards the English army ; such as, " the Marquis of Hamilton's 
"neighbourly residence with his fleet and foot soldiers before 
" Leith, without any shew ©f hostility, or any care taken to draw 
" his friends and followers together for the Kings service : on 
" the other side,4he visits of his mother, made him on board his 
" ship, who was a lady of great authority among the Cove- 
'* nanters, and most addicted to them and their covenant, her 
" daughters being married likewise to those noblemen who most 
" furiously persecuted the church, and presided in the councils ; 
" the King's refusing to give leave to some ofiicers of horse, who 
" had oflered to make inroads into the country, and destroy 
" the stock thereof; and lastly, the reception of the Earl of Hol- 
*Mand, after his shameful retreat, &c.." — Ut siqy. 121, 



[ 25 3 

lasteail of apricotts and melons, you may be fiir- 
Dished here with kale and fishe, oates and barley. 

The Covenanters sent us a winde, and we 
sent them another. On Sunday the 16th June, 
the Kinge's tent had near been blowne downe, 
whilst he was att super. It gave nie a blowe on 
niyheade with a pole, interposinge betwixt the 
wynde and the Kinge. Hisworde and writinge 
should goe together. f 

^' That my Lorde Wrothes moved against 
** innovation, and yet moved him to innovate in 
*' excludinge bishops^ 

" That they (/. e. bishops) were in practise 
*' in his father's tyme and ir* his, and that he 
** would e not turne them away. 

" That it should be the acte of the Assembly, 
^- not his. 

*' That he v>^ould not give his word to secure 
" them, for the performance of what he promist. 

** That Clarke Johnson J had a hanginge face. 

" That Hindeison|| had a grave and pro- 
** misinae face. 

f These are observations occasionally made by the King ia 
conversation. 

1 A notable character among the Covenanters, and their 
registry-clerk. 

jl Alexander Henderson, the chief of the Scottish Clergy, was 
" learned, eloquezit, and polite, and perfectly versed in the know- 
** ledge of mankind. He was at the helm of affairs in the ge- 
" neral assemblies in Scotland ; and sent into England in the 
*' double capacity of divine and plenipotentiary. He knew how 
" to rouze the people to war, or negociate a peace. Whenever 
"he preached, it was to a crowded audience; and when he 
/ pleaded or argned, he was heeird with mute attention. Charles 



f 26 ] 

*' That Wrothes and Lodian were knowne to 
*' him. 

" That no guess could bee made, by physiog- 
**nomy, of men knowne. 

** That he had a good guess at men's faces. 

" The curtayne drawne of invasion and dis- 
'* obedience." 

The kinge would have no quarrele for reli- 
gion; and the Covenanters none but for religion : 
" In defence of Christ's cause :" ** To fighte 
*' for their salvation : that they dyed martyrs ; 
** their soules on it," sayd the preachers. 

On Thursday the 20th the articles were pro- 
claymed* in the Scotche camp by the Scotche 
harald : at the same tyme the Lord Castles had a 
protestation in paper, and offered it, saying, he 
would mayntaine the Assembly. My Lord 
Argueil hindred it to be read. The army was 
discharged the same day. 

(Endorsed on the same paper.) " King's 
** honor. In nullifyinge the assembly. In re- 
*^ ducinge his subjectes to ther obedience. In dis- 

*' I. when he was at Newcastle, engaged in a religious dispute 
**' with him, in which the King had clearly the advantage ; a cir- 
*' cumstance that so affected Henderson, as to have occasioned 
" his death. Before he died, he is said to have expressed re- 
'* morse for his conduct towards the King/' — Granger. 

* Clarendon observes, vol. i. p. i. page 123, " Whoever will take 
'* upon him to relate all that passed in that t;reaty, must be behold- 
" ing to his own invention; the most essential matter having 
*' passed in discourse, and very little committed to writing." Thi« 
dearth of information on the subject will be in some measure sup- 
plied by the curious notes of Sir Henry Herbert, made during the 
expedition, and contained in the appendix. 



[ 27 ] 

" coveringe the truthe. In savinj the blood of 
*^ his people. 

** A skoller being* with the Biesliop Andrews, 
** was tould he was bare, and desired to bee co- 
" verd ; * my Lord,* he answered, ' when I*m 
*^ * cover'd, I shall bee bare still.' The Bieshop 
" understood it, and gave him £20.*' 

LETTER X. 
From H. Scudamore to &V Henry Herbert. 

Sir, — In great haste, be pleased to accept, 
with my affectionate service, the enclosed. To 
it I have nothhig of certainty to adde. 

The affairs on the other side the sea are not 
this week very productive. Onely the Spaniards 
received another blow, attempting to raise the 
siege from before Turin. The French are 
settling things about Arras ; and the Cardinal 
Infant, with his array, lyes hovering still not far 
from thence. 

Your cosen Mr. Tho. Herbert and his wife 
are both returned in health last night. Hee is 
now with me, presents you his service, and de- 
sires pardon for not writing this day. I rest 
your servant, 

H. SCUDAMORE. 
London, Au^. 29, 1640. 

*Tis said the Scots with a great arniy are in 
Northumberland. I have your's of 21st current. 

For my noble friend, Sir Henry Herbert, knt. 



[ 28 ] 

LETTER Xr. 
Trom Mary Herbert* to the same, 
Honok'd Unkle, —I hereing" of your ser- 
vant's returning to you was desirous to present 
you and my honoured ante my most luimbleservis 
by these lines ; and also I most humbly thank you 
for the great love you were pleased to shue my 
deare husband, when he was with you. I heard 
lately frome him. He is now at Oxford, not very 
well with a pane he hath in his right arme and 
foot : he sends me word he feres it is the gout, 
but I rather thinke it is some extraordinary could. 
1 pray God, of his infinite mercy, bles him, and 
bles the menes that shall be used to him for his 
health. I am coufedant lie shall have your 
prayers. BIy deare husband was pleased to 
writ to mee, and sende mee a great deal of 
newes, which I beleve you hear of ; but I pray 
you give me leva to troubele you with thus 
much only, which is this, -my Lord of Newcastle^ 

* This letter, and some others which follow in the series, from 
women of family, breeding, and fashion, in their time, afford 
striking proofs of the neglect of female education among our an- 
cestors. A few splendid examples, indeed, occur in the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries, of women, whose minds had been 
cultivated to a high degree : and whose attainments would be 
thought extraordinary, even in the present day ; but the general 
character of the sex seems to have been that oi docile domestic 
mnimalsy whose duties were exclusively confined to providing for 
the comforts of their lords, and managing the concerns of their 
families; and to whom the whole class of intellectual pleasures 
were utterly unknown. 

* William Cavendish, Marquis of Newcastle. Upon the 
eruption of the civil war, he raised a very considerable army in 



[ 29 ] 

hath imprisoned my Lord of Newpoi't,* and my 
Lord Saveli, and the Sheriffe of Yorkshire, for a 
most miserable plot, which they had upon the 
Queene and his Lordship's army, to deliver the 
Queene, uh<> is dayly expected, into the powre 
of the Parliament, and to betray his Lordship's 
army to the Parliament. Thes are mesarabel 
plots. The Lord give all these ploters their 
disarts, and setile this kingdom in pease agane, 
if it be his blessed will. So, fereing" I have biu 
to troabelsom with thes lines, I shall only desiere 
you to present my serves to my ante, aud my 
kind love to all my cossons, with my serves to 
yourself. I will ever rest, your most respectfull 
nece to love and serve you, 

MARY HERBERT 

3Tount,23dJan. 1642. 

the northern counties, with which he was successful against the 
Parliament forces, and defeated Ferdinando Lord Fairfax, at 
Adderton Moor; but his subsequent conduct seems to have 
greatly contributed to the ruin of the King's affairs. After the 
defeat at Marston Moor, he went beyond sea, and was, during 
the interregnum, chiefly at Antwerp, where he amused himself 
in writing books. (Granger.) For the character of his Lordship 
as an author, see Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors, vol, i.p. 12. 
For the supposed plot, see Smollett, vol. vii. p. 206. 

* Mountjoy Blount, Earl of Newport, a natural son of Charles 
Blount, esq; and Penelope, daugliter of Walter Devereux, Earl 
of Essex, and wife of Robert Lord Rich. He was created 
Baron of Thurlton, by James 1st; raid Earl of Newport, by 
Charies. He w^as Master of the Ordnance, and one of the council 
of war in the royal army. He died 1665. (Granger.) On his 
apprehension, he was dismissed from Ms office of Constable of th« 
Tower, ( Smollett, yii. 206.) 



[ 30 r 

All the children are very well, I prays Gob : 
and they all presents you and my ante ther 
hum bell serveses, and their loves to their cossons. 

To my much honoured unkell, Sir H. Herbert, this present. 



LETTER XII. 
From Edwarb Lord Herbert* to the same. 

Sir Henry, — The business I intended by 
you I have dispatched another way. I am think-^ 
inge of a journey to the Spavt^; but I doubt how I 
shal be able to g*o, my body beinge more infirme 
then to endure any labour. And let me assure 
you, I finde myselfe grown older in this one ! 
yeare than in fifty-nine yeares before , which, 
as it is true, I should bee glad were knowne 
among the best of those to whom you go. I 
shall pray for a good and speedy end to all 
those troubles ; and in particular that Goi> 
would guide those who are now met. And here 
I must remember that of all of us, there remains 
now but you and I to brother it. I pray you 
remember my kind love to your lady and all 
yours. So I rest, your faithfull loving brother, 

HERBERT. 

Mosskfj C. l4tJi June, 1643. 

To the right worthy Sir Henry Herbert, knight, at his hous© 
near Bewdley, Ribsford, SS. 

* Sir Henry Herbert's eldest brother j the| celebrated Lord 
Herbert of Cherbury, 



I 31 ] 

LETTER Xlir. 

From the same to the same. 

Sir Henry, — For the good offices you ever 
done mee, I thanke you. But why therupon you 
should fall upon your old whettinge, I marvaile. 
I had rather, for my part, forget all unkinde 
passages, then remember them, so as to send you 
a forgiveness for them. If Richard Witingham 
sent you word (as he told mee) of the condi- 
tion of the two parks, you would take nothing 
unkindly, especially when I wished him to teli 
you, that if you sent a guelding thither, he should 
bee welcome. But here also you may remem- 
ber the old answer. If you wall not take it 
unkindly that I denyed you a curtesay, I will 
not take it unkindly that you asked it. Good 
brother, use no more close repetitions : and now 
I growe old and infirme, do not afflictions and 
discomforts to your faithful lovinge brother, 

June 24, 1643. E. HERBERT, 

To the rigiit worthy Sir H. Herbert, at Oxford* 

LETTER XIY. 

From the same to the same. 

Sir Henry, — Though the messenger 
brought no letter from you to myselfe, yet because 
hee tould mee you were well, the welcome news 
thereof in these troubelsome limes invites me to 
congratulate it with you. If it had pleased R. 
Whittingham to have tould you that I had stone 



[ 82 ] 

horses in my lower parke, and no grasse in my 
upper parke, (as he tonld mee ^hee would,) ther 
had been no occasion for you to demand that, I 
could not conveniently do; but if you send a 
guelding or two untill Michelmas, they shal bee 
received. Wee are here almost in as great 
straits as if the warre were amongst us. Shrews- 
bury, which is our ordinary magazine, being 
exhausted of wine, vinegar^ hops, paper ; and 
pepper at four shillings the pound y and, shortly, 
a waiit of all commodities that are not native 
with us, will follow, the intercourse betweene us 
and London being interdicted. My dear and 
only brother, I wish you all health and happiness, 
and so rest, though much broken in my health, 
your faithfuU loving brother, 

E. HERBERT. 

My kind remembrance to your lady and 
children. — 26th Aug. 1643. 

LETTER XV. 
From Prjnce Rupert,* " To all Comanders, 

Officers, Souldiers whatsoever, of, or any way belonging to, 
his MaHieh Army, Forces, and Garrisons, and to all others 
whom it may concirne. 

By the authority and power given 

unto mee from his Highnes Prince Charles, 

Prince of Great Britaine, and ratified by our 

* Prince Rupert, the third son of the unfortunate Elizabeth, 
daughter of James I. and wife to the Elector Palatine, came 
over from Holland to the assistance of King Charles I. his uncle, 
about the time of his erecting the royal standard at Nottingham, 



[33 1 

SovereigTie Lord Kin^ Charles, as captaine 
Generall under his Highnes, of all the forces of 
horse and foote, &c. I doe hereby strictly 
charge and comand yon, and every of you 
whom it shall or may concerne, imediately after 
the sight or knowledge hereof (all pretences and 
excuses soever sett aside) to doe noe maner of 
violence, injury, harme, or detriment, by un- 
lawfiiU plunderinge, to Sir Henry Herbert, knt. 
of Ribsford, in the county of Worcester, in his 
person, family, houses, goods, tenants, woods. 

He possessed, in a high degree, that kind of courage which is 
better to attack than defend ; and is less adapted to the land 
service, than that of the sea, where precipitate valour is in it$ 
element. He seldom engaged, but he gained the advantage, 
which he generally lost by pursuing too far. On one occasion, 
however, he tarnished his fame, and disappointed general expec- 
tation ; for he surrendered the city of Bristol to Sir Thomas 
Fairfax, almost as soon as he appeared before it; upon which, 
in the first transport of his anger, the King deprived him of all 
his commissions ; and ordered him to quit the kingdom. Charles, 
however, relented; and though afterwards personally affronted by 
Rupert, his mildness still triumphed over his indignation, and the 
Prince was pardoned, and taken into favour. (Smollett^ vii. 310. J 
Tliis Prince, who, according to Camden, received the name of 
Rupert, in memory of Rupert the first emperor of the Palatines, 
made a conspicuous figure in the reign of his cousin, Charles II. • 
and particularly distinguished himself in that memorable engage- 
ment in the second Dutch war, in which the brave Earl of Ossory 
commanded under him. Equally celebrated for his knowledge of, 
jand attachment to, the arts, we are in possession of several 
useful inventions which are attributed to him; such as, the art 
of mezzotinto engraving; the glass drops known by his name; 
and the metal called Prince Ruperf s metal : he also discovered a 
method of boring guns, but the secret died with the illustrious 
inventor. After an active and useful life, he expired at his house 
in Spring-Gardens, 29th Nov. 1681. Granger, vol I p, 21, 

J} 



[ 34 J 

catties, or chattels whatsoever, by yourselves or 
others, as you will answeare the contrary at your 
utmost perills. Given at Hereford, under my 
hand and seale, at Armes, this 2d day of 
January, 1644. 

RUPERT. 



LETTER XVI. 

From Lord Astley* " To the Bailiff and capital 
Burgesses of Beudley, and to all the Townsmen and Inha- 
bitants of the said Borough, and to every of them J* 

Jacob Lorde Astly, Baron of Reddinge, 
lieutenant-generall of his Ma't's forces in the 
counties of Worcester, Salop, Hereforde, and 
StafForde, and lieutenant-generall of his Ma- 
jestie's forces. 

Whereas severall warrants have issued from 
Sir Guilbert Gerrarde, knight, and Prince 
Maurice, requiringe you, and every of you, to 
forbeare the further assessinge of Sir Henry 
Herbert, knight, for the woods he holds of hi^ 
Majestic, in the forrest of Wyer, these are 
therefore to require and commande you, and 

* Sir Jacob Astley, created Lord Astley, Baron of Reading, 
field-marsliall and sergeant-major general of his Majesty's 
army; lieutenant-generalofthe forces of Worcester, Gloucester, 
Hereford, and South-Wales. He was among the first that 
entered into the service of the unfortunate Charles, and his last 
hope in the decline of his affairs; but was totally defeated, with 
the remnant of the royal army, near Stow-in-the-Wold, in Glou- 
cestershire, the 21st March, 1645-6. He died October 1, 1664, 



r 35 1 

€very of yon, to forbeare the taxing"e of the saiA 
Sir Henry Herbert for the saide woods, in re- 
spect of the contribution monyes, or any other 
assessments whatsoever; it being unjust to 
charge the said woods with payments, which 
have yielded noe manner of profits for three 
years past; and to distribute the severall and 
distinct rates, layed by your former assessments 
upon Sir Henry Herbert, for the saide woods, 
amongste the inhabitants of the saide borough, 
in a just and equail manner. Wherein you, nor 
any of you, are to fail, at your utmost perills. 
Given under my hande this third of Jan. 1645» 

JACOB ASTLEY. 



LETTER XVII. 
From Prince Maurice* " To the Bailiffe and, 

capital Burgesses of Bewdleye, and to all the Townsmen 
and Inhabitants of the sayd borough, and to every of them J* 

Whereas you have unjustly and 
wilfully continued in the wrong assessing of his 
Ma ties woods in the forest of Wyer^ holden by 
Sir Henrye Herbert, knight; and have dis- 

* Prince Mamrice, third surviving son of Elizabeth and the 
Elector Palatine, entered into the service of Charles I. about the 
same time with his brother Rupert. He seems to have had less 
ardour, but more prudence, than his brother: andkn^w, far better 
than him, how to pursue an advantage which he had gained. He 
laid siege to several places in the west of England, and took 
Exeter and Dartmouth; but his most signal success was at Latt8- 
dowD; in the neighbourhood oi BaXh^-^rangen 

D2 



[ 36 i 

obeyed my warrant of the 28th of January, 
1664; and whereas Richard Walker, of Bewd- 
leye, by false informations, obteyned my warrant 
requirein^ the said Sir Henrye Herbert to paye 
the assessments laid upon the said woods for 
contribution moneys. 

These are therefore to revoke the saide war- 
rant granted to Richard Walker, or to any other 
or others, for the purpose aforesaide. And to 
require you, and every e of you, whose names are 
above-written, to forbeare the further assessing of 
the said Sir Henry Herbert, for the said woods, 
in respect of the contribution monyes; or any other 
whatsoever: it being unjust to charge the sayd 
woods with payments, which have yielded noe 
manner of profitts for these three yeares past: 
And to distribute the severall and distincte rates 
layd by your former assessments, upon Sir Henry 
Herbert, for the sayd woods, amongst the inha- 
bitants of the sayd borough in a just and equall 
manner ; and likewise to observe punctually 
the contents of my former warrant in this be- 
halfe. Fayle not at your uttermost perill. 
Given at Worcester, the seventeenth day of 
September, 1645* 

MAURICE. 



t 37 ] 

LETTER XVIII. 

From General Fairfax* to Captaine Edmund 
Halt.. 

Sir, — The Houses of Parliament having 
putt under my command all the land forces of 
this kin^dome, whereof youre troope is a part 5 
that I might give a certayne accompt thei'eof to 
them, 1 have thought fitt to appoynt Captaine 
John Gorges, a man of knowne fidelity, to bee 
commander thereof, desiring you to resigne the 
saide troope, with all the horses and armes be- 
longing thereunto, unto him. And, forasmuch 
as the armyes proceedinges have been misrepre- 
sented to the souldiers thereof, I desire you 
would sumon all officers and souldiers belong- 
inge to the troope ; and in my name lett them 
knowe, that I shall be equally careful for them 
with the rest of the souldiery in the kingdome ; 
and in confidence of your and theire obedience 
to my comands, I shall bee ready to do any 
thing which may tend to their encouragement. 



* Sir Thomas Fairfax, knight, General of the forces raised by 
the Parliament, afterwards Lord Fairfax, Baron of Cameron, 
&c. He was formed a soldier under Horatio Lord Vere, in the 
Netherlands, and present at the taking of Bois le Due from the 
Spaniards. He came behind no character of his time for up- 
rightness, sincerity, and military talents ; but was no match for 
Cromwell in art and subtlety, who first duped, and then made him 
his tool. Sir Horace Vere, liis master in the art of war, was remark- 
able for doing great things with few men ; and Fairfax, for equal 
exploits with the loss of but few. He had a considerabl« share 
in the restoration of Charles 11,-— 'Granger, 



[ 38 ]x 

And further, to prevent mistakes, I have sent 
this gentleman, Captaine Vernon, to declare 
unto them the ground of the armye's proceed- 
ings ; bye promotinge whereof, you v^^ill dis- 
charge your duty towards the settling of the 
peace of this kingdome, and cause to subscribe 
myselfe your assured friend, 

T. FAIRFAX. 
From my Head-quarters at 

^ Putney y 4tk Sept. 1647. 



LETTER XIX. 

From Gen. Fairfax to Captaine Edm". Hall, 

Being informed, that, notwithstanding 
my late order to confirme my comission given 
to Capt. Gorge, for the comande of that troope 
formerlie under you, yet you have forcibly and 
violently taken away divers men and horses, and 
have refused to returne them againe, notwith- 
standing my orders shewed unto you ; you are, 
on sighte hereof, imediately to deliver uppe such 
horses and armes as you soe tooke from Capt. 
Gorge, being those that went oiT with him, uppon 
his receipt of my comission; and that likewise, 
some men you compelled to goe with you like- 
wise, bee returned back. Wherein you are not 
to fayle, as you will answer the contempt. 
Given under my hand and seale at Windsor, the 
17th day of September, 1647. 

T.FAIRFAX. 



[ 39 ] 

LETTER XX. 
From Gen. Fairfax " ToHhe Hon, Robret 

ScAWEN, Esq; in the Chairs for the Honourable the 
' Lords and Comons, on the Committee for the Army there J* 

Sir, — I am informed by the inhabitants of 
Bridge water, that they doe suffer exceedingly by 
a disproportion of assessments for the army; they 
being charged to board a third part of the assess- 
ments of that hundred where it lieth, though itt 
be not able to beare the sixteenth parte. Itt 
was formerly a ritch towne, and of greate trad- 
ing; but by the late warres, halfe of the towne 
hath been burnt down, and the people soe im- 
poverished, and trade decayed, that 1 cannot but 
recommend the condition of that place unto you; 
to the end, some course may be taken, that that 
place may bear in assessments according to that 
just and equall portion it is now able to beare, 
which I leave to your consideration, and remaine 
your very assured friend, 
St. Albans, Nov. 16, 1648- T. FAIRFAX. 

LETTER XXL 

From J. Sei,den* to the Hon. Sir Henry 
Herbert, Knight. 

Noble Sir,~-This Gentleman, Mr. Williams, 

comes from Dr. Chaunsell, head of Jesus col- 

* John Selden, sometimes styled " the great dictator of learn- 
« ing of the English nation," and pronounced by Grotius^ hi* 



. I 40 ] 

lege in Oxford, about the legacy of books made 
to them by my Lord of Cherbury. I presuri^e 
lie will take just care of the safe delivering of 
them, if he shall receive them from your hand, 
which I desire he may, together v/ith the cata- 
logue, to take a copy of it, and return it again. 
Sir, I ever am, your most affectionate and hum- 
ble servaot, 

J. SELDEN, 

Nov. 1, 1648. White Friars. 

LETTER XXII. 

From Edward HERBEHTf to the same. 

Honored Unkle, — I have had three or four 
letters from my Uncle Edward about the odde 

jantagonist, to be the glory of it, was a man of extensive and pro- 
found knowledge as any of his age. He was thoroughly skilled 
in every thing that related to his own profession ; but the general 
bent of his studies was to sacred and profane literature. The 
greater part of his works are on uncommon subjects. Like a 
man of genius, he was not content with walking in the beaten 
track of learning, but was for striking out new paths, and en- 
larging the territories of science. His ^' Divine Right of Tithes" 
gained him more enemies than any of his works; and his " Mare 
liiberum," in which he had the advantage of Grotius, did hirn the 
most honour. Towards the close of life, he saw the emptiness of 
human learning; and owned, that, out of the numberless volumes 
he had read and digested, nothing stuck so close to his heart, or 
j^ave him such satisfaction, as a single passage out of St. Paul's 
Epistles, Titus ii. 11, 12, 13,14. He died 30th Nov. 1654.— 
Granger. See also a neat piece of biography, Selden's and 
tJsher's Lives, by Aikin. 

t Grandson of Edward Lord Herbert of Cherbury. He was 
lineally descended from Sir Richard Herbert, of Colebrook, 



L 41 3 , 

sheetes that are to make the bookes de Veritate 
compleate, which (since they bee in your house) 
I desire you to deliver them, or at lest iett my 
cosen Herbert, that I may receive some profitt 
from them; since I have not (as yett) had any 
from any thing that my grandfather hath left, but 
dayly expect the receipt of 3 or £400 from 
Montgomery. I have sent you a Lampreede 
pye b}' the bearer, and I desire you to accept itt 
as alsoe the well-wishes of your most obedient 
nephew and servant;, 

E. HEREERT. 
St. Julian S.Dec. ISth, 1648. 

" th?tX incomparable hero/' (as Lord Herbert remarks in his 
life,) " who Uvice passed through a great army of Northern men 
" alone, with his pole-axe in his hand, and returned without any 
* mortal hurt.'' P. 7. The descent of Edward Herbert, froin^ 
this puissant warrior, is as follows: 

Sir Richard Herbert, of Colebrook ; Sir Rich. Herbert, knight/ 
his 2d son ; Edward Herbert, of Montgomery, esq ; Richard 
Herbert, esq ; Edward Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and Castle 
Island in Ireland ; Richard Lord Herbert, and Edward Lord 
Herbert. (3IS. pedigree.) The title was extinguished in him 
A. D. 1691; and revived in 1694, in the person of Henry Herbert, 
esq; of Ribesford, Worcestershire, the second son, and third 
child, (by his first wife,) of Sir Henry Herbert, knight, and master 
of the revels. The above letter was written before Edward 
Herbert came to the title ; and some following ones after he 
h3.d succeeded to it. 

" Cliirbii;i hundred was annexed to Montgomerie as a help to 
"have men out ofit for defence." Itiscalledin Domesday Wikantre^ 
from Gnire, an angle, and tre, a town, from iis situation in a flat 
among the mountains. Edward III. granted it to Roger Mor- 
timer, as annexed to Montgomery Castle. Edward IV. granted 
it to the Prince of Wales: and Edwaid VI. to Sir Edward Her- 
bert; and Charles the First gave Sir Edward Herbert leave to 
ahenditeit.—'GougJis Camden J vol. Hi. p, 12.' - 



r 42 3 

My sisters remember their services to you, 
and 1 desire that they res and mine may be pre- 
sented (allsoe) to your lady. 

To my deare untie Sir Henry Herbert, knight, ait his lodging* 
in Coven Garden, 

LETTER XXIir. 

From Lady Vere Every* to the same. 

Honored Sir, — I should be very unwilling 
to bringe any pregudie upon you, tho' it would be 
a very greate satisfaction to me for many rea* 
sones, which I shall make you acquainted when I 
see you. When I wrote to you at furst, my Lady 
Every was very desirous you should be maid 
acquainted with it, an say'd you told hir you 
Would do any thing to improve Sir Harry's 
estatte ; and if you would, you might gurde it 
in your one name, and in joy the wrents tel he 
came at aige. Thay thinke you will not doe it ; 
for she, it seames, thinks you to be very neare. 
Jeames has say'd as much. Thay doe not love 
you nor me neather, but from the teeath out- 
wards. Thay think you have perswaided Sir 
Harry not to prove the will ; and when thay 
have any discourse, she says Sir Harry Herbert 
is his councel. If you will purchase this land, 
which is 81. a yeare, at twenty yeares purchase, 
you will put a visiable courtisi upon Sir Harry 

. * Eldest daughter, and second child, by his first wife, of Sir 
Henry Herbert. She married Sir Henry^Ver^ of Eggington.— 
MS, Pedigree, ' 



[ 43 ] 

Every, which I am sure you have not beea 
behind hand in; but I beleve thay doe not thinke 
soe, for my Lady sa}'S, you neaver did hir any 
realy frendshep in your life. My Lady has a 
a mind to aave this land, and does solicit Mr. 
Waltors under hand to have it ; but he would 
not let her have it tel Sir Harry refuses it, and 
he promises that he shall have it 5 pound cheaper 
than another. She makes all the provision as 
she cane for hir yonger cnildren. We shall not 
be the better for her by a grote; we must not 
stay heare an}' longer then our Lady-day. If 
you will give us leve, we will be with you a 
niounth or tow; and then we shall not know how 
to dispose of ourselves, without you will be 
pleased to live at Ribsfor, for Sir Harry Eevry 
cannot live out of the countrey. I could wish 
that we had our share of the goods w^hich are 
heare. Jeames and my Lady is very great: 
thay cannot abide we should have any muny ; 
there was wrents braut the other day, and be- 
cause she did not receave ail, she was so doged, 
that she would not come doune in two or three 
days, and did scarce alow us meat. I doe truble 
you with these things, that you may be ac- 
quainted with hir youmours. I thanke God I 
content myselfe with any thing, and never take 
noates of them. I am very happy, thanke God, 
in Sir Harry Every; he is a very great lover and 
honourer of you, which dos incourage me to 
love him more. Pray, Sir, my duty to my 



[ 44 ] 

nauther; and pardon the truble I have put you 
to from hir that is your dutyful daughter, 

V. E. 

For my honoured Father, Sir Henry Herbert. 

LETTER XXIV. 

From Sir Harry Every to the same. 

Sir, — AccoRDiNGE to your directions, I 
have previously, by Mr. Alestree, tryed all 
wayes with Forde aboute the tythe, but he 
is soe perremtory and unreasonable, that 
there is nothing* to be donne with him. A hun- 
dred pounds will not satisfie him and Bould; 
theire solicittor Harrison is now going* to Lon- 
don, who sayes hee goes one his owne businesse, 
and onely carries Foorde a letter. It has been 
onely youre care which has prevented his kna- 
very hytherto, and is only your favoure which 
preserves^, Sir, your obedient son, 

Jan. 27. 1648. HENRY EVERY. 

Sir, my desier is, that you would com doune 
as sone as you cane, for we wold faine be gon 
from this place. My Lady dos leade us a very 
uncomfortable life, and wolde faine be wrid of 
us ; and sayse I am she that dose perswade Sir 
Henry to all that is not agreabell to hir you- 
mours, y. 

For my honored Father, Sir Henry Herbert, at his hous* 
in Jeames^quare, in Coven Garden. Pay post 6d. 



[ 46 I 

LETTER XXV. 
From Lady V. Every to the same. 

Honored Si r, — It is my Lady's desier to ac- 
quaint you, that there is'profered Sir Harry Every 
a parcle of ground by Ceaster. — wrent of five 
pounds a yeare, which is ajoining to his, and 
hee has a mind to sell it. Pray, Sir, give your 
opinion in it. The tailor and the sadler is Un- 
pay'd, against our wils; and we doe entend to 
stay tell our Lady-day^ that we may bring np 
money. My Lady has receaved the wrents, 
and has made so much worke, that we have re- 
ceaved little or nothing. I am afeard when she 
comes to an account, that there will be a breach. 
She does desire that you may be the judge be- 
twene them. Sir, for the muney that you have 
pay'd for me. I humbly thank you ; I shall' 
indeavour to be more obedient, which is all I 
can returne for your love and care of me, and 
for my failings. I beseech you. Sir, impute 
them, not to my willfullness, but to my ignorance; 
for nothing in this world can be a greater truble 
to me than your disfavour, I had an entent to 
write to my cosenes V. 

I am not very well. I am trubled much with 
the cholick ; therefore I will crave your pardon, 
and desier you will give me leave to subscribe 
myselfe your duty full daughter, 

Dec 23. VERB EVERY. 



I 46 3 

Sir Hury present his duty to you. I have 
write to Mr. Soiy, w«th the confidence, that by 
your favour I shall obtaine my desier. 
For my honored father, Sir Henry Herbert, in Jeames-square. 



LETTER XXVr. 
From Sir H. Herbert to Lady Y. Every. 

Vere, — To boast your obedience, and to owne 
your Chancery Bill, are contradictions, vi^hich 
become not your piety and my innocency. As to 
my expressions, they are like the wounds of a 
faithfull friend, though you have converted them 
into the gaule of bitterness, and are more de- 
lighted with the kisses of an enemy. 

The reports are false; 'tis of your making, and 
cannot bee true when they are used to wounde 
Miy good name; for great is truth, and will 
prevaile in spight of the malice conceived against 

Yours, H. HERBERT. 

You had advise of my maradge, as the person 
most concerned in relation : and because the 
newes was acceptable to you, the safe delivery 
of a paire of daughters will encrease the joye, 
that my grasious God is pleased to double his 
blessings, whilst you deale injuries. 

Zd Jan. 1651, 



[ 47 3 

LETTER XXVII. 

From E. Herbert,* Esq; to Sir H. Herbert. 
31omitgomery , 26th Jan. 1653. 

Most Honor'd Unkle, — You may think 
it very strange, that, after receiving- soe many 
letters from yon, I never had the civility to re- 
turn you a thankfuU acknovidedgment for your 
care of mee and my businesse; but give mee 
leave to tell you, your kindnesses to me were 
mixt with soe many reproachfull threaten ings 
of my Lord, (I conceive not justly grounded,) 
that I thought, since there was a necessity of 
displeasing my Lord (if 1 shou'd approve of 
them), or you, in my silence, I chose the latter, 
because naturall affection binds me to it; which 
you cannot dislike, wh^n you consider it aright^ 
and would expect the like from your owne sonne; 

My cosen William Browne is desired to re- 
ceive the Monmouthshire writings againe from 
you, and by your favour and direction to move 
againe in that businesse, Soe with my wife's 
and my services to yourself and lady, I rest 
your most affectionate nephew and servant, 

E. HERBERT. 

My blessings to my dear niece and goddaughter. 

For my most honor'd uncle, Sir Henry Herbert, knight, atthif 
house in Jeames-street, Coven-Garden, 

* Grandson of JSdward, first Lord of Gherbury, and son 
of Richard, second Lord of Cherbury; and succeeded his father 
Richard in the title and estate. 



[ 48 ] 

LETTER XXVIII. 

From the same* to the same. 

My Hon' Unkle, — Nothing afflicts me 
soe much, ia the midst of all my trubles, as to 
loose your favor, whom I esteem my sacred 
anchor. Necessitie coinperd me to send a 
speciall cursitor away to serve my Lord and his 
Lady mother. This was to be done in that in* 
stant of time when I should have attended you; 
yet in that pressure of businesse, I made it my 
first worke by letter to excuse my non attend- 
ance. I leave it now to your owne breast to 
judge of my course. For youre five pound, I 
cannot with convenience return it yett; be 
pleased therefore to send Mr. Cox over with a 
bond, and it shall be signed, and confirm*d ac- 
cording to your pleasure. For the will you 
mention, it is made. I made one, but not with- 
out remembrance of what you desirede from 
iiiee. Books for my deare and sweet relation 
cosen Harrie. Some things else was bequeathed, 
if my memorie faile me not. The rest I left to 
charitable pious uses, and, among the rest, for a 
tomb-stone for my father, though paide for by 
himselfe, yet never sett on him by his executors, 
administrators, or their trustees. And now I 
have told you this, give me leave to tell you my 
design was to have altered my will, and made it 
^tunn with a full currant towards you and yotirs ; 
* After he had succeeded to the title. 



[ 49 ] 

hut IJind you under valewe my right and interest^ 
slight and neglect me in my greatest pressures ; it 
seeviinge^ therefore, not worth your acceptation, I 
shall never ihinkeit worth my proffer. Indeed, 
Hon. Unkle, gratitude is the greatest point of 
honour my soul courts; which I will endeavour 
yet farther to improve, by forgettinge asper- 
sions, and remembering courtisies onlie. Thus, 
I design to christen my memorie everie morning, 
that I may rise fresh to acknowledge myselfe ta 
all I am engaged too, and to yourselfe in the 
first place. Youre poore indebted, but affec- 
tionate, nephew and servant, 

Feb. 6th, 1656. HERBERT. 

My humble service to my good and vertuous 
iiunt, and all my sweet cosens. 

To the Right Hon. Sir Henry Herbert, his most honored uncle, 
at his liouse in Chelsea, present, these. 

LETTER XXIX, 

From the same to the same. 

HoNNOREB UNKI.E, — I received yours of 
December the 1st, and the 17th, of old Samuel; 
and with it a remarkable assurance of your unde- 
served affection towards your poore nephew. 
A perpetuall acknowledgement of this great favor 
is all I can express my gratitude in. Your 
expressions concerning Mr. Pulford are noe more 
than I resented before. As for my Lady and 



C 50 ] 

niy Lord Vernon, I finde the breaches between 
them increase daily, with small hope of uniting* 
the festring" parts, which how growne soe fowle, 
may bee guest at easilie. My best endeavours 
and praiers shall not be wanting, though foment- 
ing jealousies make such attempts hopeless as yet. 

Sir, I present my humble service to yourselfe, 
with my honnored good aunt ; and 1 desire your 
leave to present her with this small Welsh 
token, or new-year's gift, which you shall re- 
ceive by Ned Davies, Collier's heir, and suc- 
ceeding carrier. The carriage is paid for. My 
best love and respect to my hopeful cosin Harrie, 
and the rest of your deare pledges. Both in my 
life and death, I shall not be wanting in my 
real affections towards him, and all yours. Be 
pleased to believe this from your most oblidged, 
affectionate, dutifull nephew, 

Ckirburie, Dec. 19, 1655. HERBERT. 

For the Right Honorable Sir Henrie Herbert, at his house i» 
James-street, in Govent Garden. 

LETTER XXX. 
From the same to the same. 

Honnored Unkle,— I have sent you my 
release, and referre it to your owne time for the 
presentment of it, my sole confidence relyinge 
thereupon. When I shall bee sumonde to ap- 
peare personally, I make noe doubt, with your 
assistance, to cleare myselfe. For Sir Orlandoe 



[ 51 ] 

Bridgemaii's ami Mr. Person's judg'ements in 
my other cause, I have them safe, and hope to 
deliver them to you myself next weeke. For 
the bearer, tho' I keepe him poore, I dare trust 
him in a g'reater occasion then this; but if you 
have any prejudicial! opinion of him (which noe 
question hath some g-rounds), I desire to know 
it, that 1 may correct my easie beliefe. Sir, 
with my praiers for the confirmation of your 
health, I rest your obliged, affectionate nephew 
and servant, 

HERBERT. 

My humble service to my g-ood aunt, your 
vertuous lady, and all my sweet cosens; and 
pray, good unkle, use the caudle. 

Dec. Slh, 1656. 

To the Right Hon. Sir Henrie Herbert, my honored unkle, 
present these, at Chelsea. 

LETTER XXXr. 

From OnvER Cromwell* io Serjeant 

Wylde, S^C4 

Gentlemen, — We doubt not but you have 

heard before this time of the hand of GOD g'oing- 

along with us, in defeating the late rebellious 

* The character of Oliver Cromwell has always been con- 
sidered as a kind of moi-al tsnignm, from the strange display of 
contrasts which it exhibited; enthusiasm, and cunning; am- 
bition, hypocrisy, and fanaticism. But the fact seems to be, that 
each of these principles was, for the time, the ruling one, and 
absorbed the man. Enthusiasm was the quality which first set 
his mighty mind in motion; as he advanced in his career, an<i 

£ 2 



[ 52 ] 

insurrection. And we hope, that, through his 
blessing upon our labours, an effectual course 
will be taken, for the totall disappointment of 
the whole designe. Yet knowinge the reso- 
lution of the common enemy to involve this nation 
in new calami tys, we conceive ourselves, and 
all others entrusted with preserving the peace of 
the nation, obliged to endeavour in their places 
to prevent and defeat the enemies' intentions ; 
and therefore as a measure specially conducing 
to that end, we doe earnestly recommend to you 
to take order that dilligent watches (such as the 
law hath appointed) bee daily kept for taking 
a strict account of all strangers in the county; 
which will not only be a meanes to suppress all 
loose and idle persons, but may probably cause 
some of those who come from abroad to kindle 
fires here, to be apprehended and seized upon^ 
especially if care be taken to secure all them 

when wider prospects unfolded to him^ ambition was influenced, 
and became the ruling motive of action; to whose aid subtlety and 
hypocrisy were called in, as necessary to the accomplishment of 
its designs. When ambition had had its fill, and the close of lif© 
evinced the vanity of its pursuits, then the original principle of 
fanaticism was again resorted to, as the only refuge from thos© 
horrors, which such a life as that of Oliver CromwelFs would 
continually awaken in the mind, on the approach of death. 
When he told the officer, that he and his party were " seeking the 
** Lord,'' at the time when they were hunting for " the cork- 
" screw," there can be no doubt, that he played the part of the 
hypocrite: and when, in answer to his chaplain Goodwin, who 
told him, that " the elect could never fall into reprobation,'' he 
answered, " then I am safe, for I am sure I was once in a state 
*' of grace," there is sufficient evideace that he was in the very 

gulph of FANATICISM, 



[ 53 ] 

that cannot give a good account of their busi- 
nesse , and may alsoe brake all dangerous meet- 
ings and assemblys together. Herein we doe 
require, and shal expect your effectual endea- 
vours ; knowing, that if what by law ought to be 
done were done with diligence in this respect, 
the contrivance of such dangerous designs as 
these would be frustrated in their bud, or kept 
from growing to a maturity. I rest your affec- 
tionate friend, 

OLIVER, P. 
Whitehall, 26th March, 1654. 

For John Wilde, serjeant-at-law, and the rest of the Justices 
of Peace for the county of Worcester, or any of them, to 
be communicated to the rest ; or in his absence, to Ni^ 
cholas Lechmere, esq; Worcester, 



LETTER XXXII. 

From General Monk* to Lord BRoaHii,T..t 

Whitehall, 1th February y 1659. 
My Lord, — Your epistle of the 30th of 
January from Cork came to me yesterday 

* The late Lord Orford regarded the character of Monk in rather 
an illustrious light. ^' This memorable man,'' says he, "who 
*' raised himself by his personal merits within reach of a 
" crown, which he had the prudence, or the virtue, to wave ; whose 
" being able to place it on the head of the heir is imputed to as- 
" tonishing art or secrecy, when in reality he only furnished a 
'* hand to the heart of a nation ; and who, after the greatest ser- 
" vices that a subject could perform, either wanted the sense, or 
** had the sense, to distinguish himself no farther, (for, perhaps, he 
* wai singularly fortuuate in always embracing the moment •€ 



I 54 ] 

and I assure your Lordship I shall improve ail 
the interest I have, to give the Parliament a just 
impression of your services , which I must ac- 
knowledge have been alwaies very eminent, but 
more especially in the late transactions in Ire- 
land, and particularly in the care your Lordship 
has taken of that important province of Munster, 
"where you now are. I doubt not but your 
Lordship has had, by this time, my letter, wherein 
I gave your Lordship an accompt of my ap- 
proaching towards this place, and some other 
particulars, in order to your Lordship's desires 
to me ; and alsoe the names of the commissioners 
that are appointed by the Parliament for the 
civill government of Ireland, who (I think) are 
for the greatest part of them very sober, honest 
men. And I am very glad your Lordship is soe 

*' propriety :) this man was an author, &c." — 'Catalogue of IRoyal 
and Noble Authors, vol. ii, p. 1. Mr. Fox, in his ^' History of the 
*' Early Part of the Reign of James II." p. 19, has given a 
totally different view of the character of Monk ; but, perhaps, 
after ail, the truth lies between the two. Monk, like the rest of 
mankind, was a very mixed character ; rather made by circum- 
stances what he at different times was, than directing circum- 
stances to suit his premeditated purposes. 

t Lord Broghill had been appointed, by Cromwell, president 
of the council for the administration of adairs in Scotland, and 
afterwards made president of Munster in Ireland ; vvhere, as 
Clarendon tells us, he had very great interest and influence. 
He wished for a safe opportunity to do his Majesty (Charles II.) 
service ; and, accordingly, on General Monk's marching to Lon- 
don, he seized upon the persons of such as had been put in au- 
thority in Munster by Lambert, or the Rump Parliraneut ; and 
submitted to the order ofMonk.—Histcrt/ of the Reh(^Uwny Hi, 755. 



r 55 ] 

pTiideiitly ming"led in the management of the 
military part ; which I thinke to bee in as good 
hands as can possibly bee, and I shall endeavour 
to have them soe continued. I have heere with 
me foure thousand of my ownefoote, and fifteene 
hundred horse, besides a regiment which Co- 
lonel Morley has in the Towre, and a new re- 
giment raised at Portsmouth, under Col. Farley ; 
and they are such as wall not dispute the Par- 
liament's orders, or undertake to interest them- 
selves in state affairs, (which, your Lordship 
knows, is a principle of discipline I alwaies ex- 
ercise, where I have authoritie to doit;) soe 
that I thinke the Parliament will not have occa- 
sione to drawe any of the Irish forces hither : 
althouorh I cannot but esteeme it as an extraor- 
dinary effect of your Lordship's care for the pub- 
lique safety, and for favour to m.e, that you are 
pleased toinformeme of the assistance thatmight 
bee had from those parts, and yourobligine offer 
to give me the honour of conducting them. I 
must confess I thinke Sir Hardress Waller has 
been a little too remiss in the prosequition of 
matters with you ; but I hope it has been rather 
in tenderness of mind than otherwise ; and when 
I was within two or three dales march of Lon- 
don, I gave him some smart advise concerning 
his behaviour to the factious fanatique part of 
the arniy. I shall bee careful that Col. Wal- 
Jace and Major Deane, who have escaped so 
unhandsomely from Ireland, bee not receivetl 



C 56 ] 

into any countenance or esteeme heere 5 and 
your Lordship shall be sure, that at least I will 
not have any thing to doe with them myselfe. I 
am heartily sorry that I cannot doe that service 
for your Lordship, which I desire to doe ; but I 
will never omit any oportunity I can have to 
promote your Lordship's merits, for I am, with 
much reality, my Lord, your Lordship's most 
humble servant, 

GEORGE MONK. 



LETTER XXXm 
From Lady Herbert* to Sir H. Herbert. 

April Blst, — h59. 
Honored fSiR,— The obligation you have 
putt upon me in your kind inquiry after your 
nephew, my deere lord and master, apeeres 
to mee clothed with soe great a love and caire 
of him, that I must ever acknowledg myself 
your detter for this kindnesse; and shall in- 
devour to make you some requital!, by letting 
you know that, blessed be God, hee arrived 
safe in Dublin, from whence hee is gone for 
Kery to Ipoke after his affaires ; where, ai? 
the country aire doe agree with him, and he 

* Daughter of Sir Thomas Middleton, of Chirk Castle, an^ 
widow of Edv/ard, third Lord of Cherbury, in whom the title 
l^ecame extinct ; but was afterwards revived in Henry Herbert, 
eaq; son of Sir Henry Herbert, in 1C94, 



r 57 ] 

have his health, he doth intend to plant, hoping", 
by God's blessing upon his designs and endea^ 
vours, to repair, in some measure, the g-reat 
breaches of his famely. For \^hiGh, I doubt not, 
he shall have your prayers and assistance in 
helping to some planters, which will very much 
add to the obligation you have allready put 
upon your affectionate friend^ kinswoman, and 
servant, 

ANNE HERBERT, 

Pray make acceptable to your lady my hum-* 
blest servises. My blessing to my godson, I 
pray, who by this time I hope is grone a lusty 
lad. My brother and sister present th^ir ser- 
vises to you. 

LETTER XXXIV. 
From SirHenky Heubert* to Mr* Alderman 

HlGNOR. 

Sir, £. s, d. 

Of White Plate 17154^ ounces, at 

4s. lli^d. per oun<:e - - - - 425 6 
Of Guilte Plate, lo^ ounces, at 

5s. 4d. per ounce ----- 19 12 



444 18 



This was my plate unjustly seazed and sold to 
you by the sequestrators sittinge at Camden 

* This sequestration of Sir^Henry's property had heen made, 
io consequence oi the ordinance of the Parliament for sequester- 



[ 58 ] 

House, in May 1646, or thereabouts; and if I 
am not much mistaken, all, or the greatest part 
of it, bought by you. And you are desired to 
make me satisftiction for it, in a conscionable 
way, bv the rule of doing as you would be done 
by; and, with St. Paule, exercise alwaies a 
good conscience towards GoD and man. 

If the Church of England may be believed, 
sins of this nature cannot be pardoned without 
restitution; yet the matter and manner are 
wholly submitted to your judgment, with this 

ing the estates, rents, and reversions of delinquents; or the ad- 
lierents of the unfortunate Charles the 1st. Sir Henry had been 
a most faithful servant to his King, and continued to be so to the 
last; as we learn from the following account in Wood's Athenae, 
Vol. ii. 524. " It inay not be forgotten, that Sir Henry Herbert, 
"Diaster of the revells, and gentleman in ordinary of his Ma- 
" jesty's privy chamber, (one that cordially loved and honoured 
" the King, and during the war had suffered considerably in his 
" estate by sequestration aud otherwise,) meeting Mr. Thomas 
'' Herbert, his kinsman, in St. James's Park, first enquired 
" bow his Majesty did, and afteiivards presenting his duty to him, 
'^ with assurance that himself, v/ith many other of ^is Majesty's 
^' servants, did frequently pray for him, desired that his Majesty 
*' would be pleased to read the 2d chapter of EcclesiasticT:s, for he 
" should find comfort in it, amply suiting his present condition. 
" Accordingly Mr. Herbert acquainted the King therewith, who 
*' thanked Sir Karry^ and commended hinjforhis excellent parts, 
*' being a good scholar, soldier, and an accomplished courtier, 
" and for his many years faithful service, rnuch valued by the 
" King, who presently turned to that chapter, and read it with 
" much satisfaction." Among some papers of Sir Henry Herbert 
now before the Editor is a copy of that very chapter, in the hand- 
writing of the knight. The relation which Wood gives in the 
place above referred to, (as communicated to him by Sir Thomas 
Herbert,) of the last days of Charles the iirst, is the most minute, 
affecting, and interesting of any account extant. 



C 59 1 

confidence, that what yon freely tender, shall 
he accepted ; and in case of refusall, noe moles- 
tation shall be given you by your very affection- 
ate friend, 

HENRY HERBERT. 

For Mfp Alderman Hignor, at Hackney. 
(Endorsed. J — Copy of what was sente Alder- 
man Hignor, the 20th December, 1660. His 
nephewe received it, and promised answer. 

LETTER XXXV. 

From the 3Iayor and Recorder of Maidstone, to 
Sir Henry Herbert. 

31aidstone, Sih Oct. 1660. 
Honorable Sir, — We received youres of 
the sixth instant b}^ these bearers, and question 
not your commission, as Master of his Majestie's 
Re veils, or your licence granted to these per- 
sons, Jacob Brevi^er, (kc; northern, so farre as 
they shall use the same according to lawe, to 
Avhich your license doth prudently and carefully 
tve them. One particular of which theyre 
lawfull exercise we conceive to be within 
the verge of his Majestie's courte, wherever it 
shall be, in any parte of Englande, where they 
may be under your eye and care, for the 
reforminge and regulating any abuses of their 

* For particulars respecting the historj, authority and jurisdic- 
diction of the office of blaster of the llevells, see Appendix. 



[ 60 1 

license, which might be committed by them* 
But we doe not finde that you doe, and pre- 
sume you did not intend to, grant them a 
licence to wander abroade all England over, 
at what distance soever from you. And we finde 
that the wanderinge abroad of such persons is 
^xpresslye cautioned by the statut of the 39th of 
theQueen, in the case of players of interludes 
and minstrels, (except it be by expresse license 
under the hande and scale of such Baron, or 
other noble person, of greater degree, to whome 
they doe particularly belonge); and however we 
knowe no lawe or statut that requires the ma- 
gistrates of any place to give them any particular 
leave or license ef they re owne, by way of addi- 
tion to any other. And indeed the mischiefe 
and publicke disorders by the practices of such 
kinde of persons, in wanderinge abroade from 
countye to county e, is such, that we cannot 
thinke it reasonable to give them any further 
•countenance than the lawe provides; which we 
hope will not be displeasing to you, who, we 
presume, do lake the observance of hisMajestie's 
lawes to the best obedience to his Majestie's 
authoritye. In which assurance we take leave, 
and rest, Honourable Sir, youre most humble 
servants, 

RICHARD BILLS, Maior. 

LAMBARDE GODFREY, Recorder. 

To the Hon. Sir Henry Herbert, knight. Master pf his Mht 
j«s^tie's ReyeUs, these humbly present.^ 



[ 61 3 

(Endorsed.) — From the Maior of Maydstone, 
and the Recorder, eoncer. Jacob Brewer, dancer 
on the ropes. 

LETTER XXXVI. 

From Sir H. Herbert to the Mayor of 
3Iaidstone. 
Oct, 9, — 60^ from the Office of the Revells, 

Sir, — Yours of the 8th comes to my hande 
the 9th of this monthe, and makes out an 
acknowledgment and submission to hisMajestie*s 
grante, as Master of his Majestie's Revells, and 
to the powers of lycencinge the persons in 
question, and to their exercise of the said powers, 
so farr as they shall use the same accordinge 
unto law : but you restraine the exercise thereof 
to the verge of his Majestie's court, and then 
restraine the Master of the Revells to the said 
limits, as to his jurisdiction; which is, in some 
sort, a contradiction; and such an interpretation 
as was never given before by any learned gen- 
tlemen. The license is granted upon the con- 
ditions of good behaviour to the lawes and 
ordinances of superiors. But you are not taken 
to be in a capacity, by virtue of your charter, to 
suppresse them, they bearinge themselves as they 
ought to doe. And there is non obstante in 
the concession, which provides against the penall 
lawes, which being under the greate scale of 
England, and corroborated by aconstant practice, 
whereof the memorie of man is not to the 



[62 J 

contrarie, I conceive you will not be the sole 
infringer of his Majestie's grante, and the con- 
stant practice thereof in all his Majestie's do- 
minions and liberties in England. And you 
may be assured by me, that you are the first 
mayor or other officer, that ever did dispute the 
authority, or the extent of it; for to confine it 
to the verge of the Court, is such a sense as was 
never imposed upon it before, and contrary to 
the constant practice ; for severall grantes have 
been made by me, since the happy restoration of 
our gracious sovereign, to persons in the like 
quality; and seriously, therefore, admitted into 
all the counties and liberties of England, without 
any dispute or molestation. 

You are, therefore, desired to give them leave 
to exercise their qualities, accordinge to the 
conditions of their license, the rather that they 
have suffered muche in lyinge still, and are in 
their waye to the sea syde for transportation : 
and I have given them order to stay noe longer 
than they have raysed their necessarye charges. 
But in case you doe delyghte in opposition and 
obstinacy to lawfull authority, and yet would be 
obeyed in yours without dispute ; then you may 
take this from me, that I shall forthwith sende a 
message from his Majestie's chamber, to fetche 
you and Mr. Recorder Godfrey hither, to answer 
your disobedience to his Majestie's authority 
derived unto me under the great scale of England, 
and in exercise of the said powers by me for 



[ «3 ] 

almost forty yea res, with exception only to th^ 
late times. And if you have endang-ered your 
charter by this refracteriuess, and doe put 
charges and displeasures on your corporation 
and persons, you will remember that you were 
faieriy invited to the contrary, and admonished 
thereof by your very affectionate friend, 

HENRY HERBERT. 

Respects to Mr. Recorder Godfrey, of whom 
I have heard e well by my cosen Lambert, and 
t\)r whom I have a particular kindnes. 

LETTER XXXVir. 

From T. Herbert,* Esq; to Sir H. Herbert. 

Honored Sjr, — 'Tis now some tynie since 
the worthy Sir Mathew Herbert J has left his 
house and Oakiley Parck to goe up to London. 
Ifeare it is to hide himselfe att his brother Lucey 's, 
and not to follow his occasions ; and to unwinde 
himselfe out of a labarinth of incouveniencies, 
which his willfuUness and indiscression hath in- 
volved him into. The malice of his enemyes 
will find him out in all places ; and the designes 
of those that love not his name will not fayle, 

* Third son of Ricliard, the second Lord Herbert of Cherbury. 

— MS, Pedigree. 

X Sir Matthew Herbert, of Bromfield, bart. son of Francis 
Herbert, descended from Walter Herbert, of Dolgiog. H^ 
marj-ied a daughter of Lucy of Charlton. — MS. Pedig-ree, 



[ 64 ] 

iwilesse some of his relations forget those in- 
civilities hee hath heaped upon them lately. I 
am sure, when you consider the temper of his 
constitution, you will allowe the hott and the 
moyst in him are not of a fitt mixture to make 
a eompleate understandinge ; and that the hott 
is predominant even to frenzy, which, blowne 
and fomented by the wyndy and frothed brayne 
of his wife, I feare as dangerous to his estate, in 
her, and relations designes, as in the enmity of 
the Baldwynes. You must not wrong the good 
lady soe much as to thinke shee is capable of 
carrying on a designe ; but shee may have some 
confidante, of better understanding, that may 
manage her as an instrument, , As to Baldwyn's 
ayme, it is chiefly to force the Knight to make 
better assurances, according to former agree- 
ments betwixt them, of an estate purposed to 
raise money to pay Samson Fox ; but the other 
ayme att the inheritance of the whole estate, 
and soe suffer (if not encourage) him in his wylde 
proceedings, and estrange him from his friends 
and relations as much as they can, only to ren- 
der him and his estate the more feazable to be 
begged ; and rather than fayle, I suppose they 
will both joyne to effect it, and to make a frendly 
divident of the estate, to please each other. Sir, 
give me leave to suspect the worst, and to bee 
free in my discourse to you ; and I have reason 
for it, because I have the best oppinion of your 
judgment and integrity to mee that canne bee. 



I 



[ 65 ] 



It will become mee to make inquiry after that 
which may bee the right of my nephew or 
niece, my sister Florence being" reddy to lye 
downe, and clayme the name of a mother. Sir, 
bee pleased to bee very inquisitive after him; 
and if yon see any thing like to happen, that you 
would please to prepossess the Lord Chancellor 
with the state of the business, and the wronge 
that may light on your inocent and rightfull 
hey re, if not prevented. I cannot blame Mr, 
Richard Herbert*, his younger bro: for not 
being more inquisitive, because, if he should 
appear bussy, and his brother the knight not 
beggable, it might exasperate him to doe worse 
than I hope he yet meanes, and give the other 
party a just rite of argument and advantage. 
When you have read this, you may know my 
meaning; and I desire you will lay out your care 
for my satisfaction, who will ever acknowledge 
to bee obliged to you for your most significant 
kindness^ which you have conferred on, honored 
Sir, your affectionate nephew and humble ser- 
vant, 

T. HERBERT. 

I pray give my wife's and my services and 
blessings where due; and pardon mee for making 
use of another hand to write this letter in. I'le 
assure you I was in soe ill an humour when I 
wrote the originall, that it would be hardly legi- 

* Richard Herbert, of Dolgiog, esq; married Florens, daughter 
of Richard Lord Herbert of Cherbury, Son of Edward fiarst Lord 

«f Cherbury. — 3/^. Pedigree. 



I 66 ] 

ble, and I hate to transcribe any thin^ ; but this 
is the true sense I have of all the parties men- 
tioned; and I judge them by appearance, and 
not surmise. 

For my-ever honor'd Sir Henry Herbert, knight, at Lyncoln, 
Westminster, London. 



LETTER XXXVIir. 
From Lord Herbert^ to the same. 

Ki/ssi/n, the 24th Jan. 1664: — 5. 

Worthy Sir, — Now is the time I must 
trouble you for money in relation to my Irish 
affaires; for Mr. Burton has brought it about 
to my wish, and my Lord of Ormond has, in his 
kind expressions of me and my brother Harry, 
allmost created a resolution in mee to take em- 
ployment in Ireland, and to leave my native 
spile to those that have better luck in it. 
'V^hen,his Grace returnes, I am resolved to kisse 
his hands, Gob willing, in his way, and to pre- 
sent him with a fine Welch harp of about a £100 
price, which, tho' inconsiderable as to his favours 
to me and my brother, yet will shew that I am 
sensible of them, and that I have a grateful 
mind. The sum that I desire of you is thirty 

* Edward, third Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and Baron of 
Castle Island in Ireland, in whom the title becai^e extinct; but 
was reyived afterwards in the person of Henry Herbert, esq; 
son pf Sir Henry Herbert. Edward died in 1678, and lies buried 
in Westminster Abbey. Castle Island, or the Castle of the Island 
of Kerry, now gives the title of Viscount to Lord Ga^e. 



I 67 ] 

pounds, which I pray may be Selivered, with 
the enclosed letter, to Mr. Thomas Barton, to 
gratify my Lord Duke's secretary, and the 
other officers, throug"h wliose hands nny bnsiiiesse 
passes, in order to the procurement of the g-reate 
scale in [reland, where it cannot sticke (had I 
an enemy), as I have a friend of the Chaiicelor, 
Sir Maurice Eustace. My Lord Duke's ex- 
pression of my brother was this ; having heard 
that bee was not to continue his place, unless 
he would appear in Ireland, and desiring his 
Grace's pleasure in it; Sir (says hee), acquaint 
Mr. Herbert, I am st>e farre from thinking to 
displace him out of the regiment, that 1 am 
studying how I may advance him, and T am 
angry at this report : and soe went on, giving 
my brother an excellent caracter, and saying 
something of mee that pleases mee well. I wish 
to God my brother were in condition to attend 
his Grace ; bat on the whole matter I am highly 
encouraged, and how to shew myself God direct 
mee; would you afford councei!, after I have 
seen the Duke, I shall bee better able to judge. 
This businesse of mine must bee strucke up now 
the iron ishott; therefore I pray send the money 
to Mr. Burton, which, GoB willing, I shall re- 
pay with speed. Soe with servisesand blessings 
where due, I rest. Sir, yonv affectionate and 
obliged nephew and servant, 

HERBERT. 

For Sir Henry Herbert, knight, at Lyacoln's, Westminster, 
these, London. 

F 2 



[ 68 } 



LETTER XXXIX. 

From the Bishop o/'Herefordj* to /Sir Henry 
Herbert. 

Croft Castle, May 2, 1665, 
SiR,-*I Received a letter lately from you 
without date, the style whereof truely is some- 
what harsh ; and threateninge a complaint if I 
give you not leave to remove the cause so much 
delayed by my chancellor. Farre be it from me 
to countenance unjust delays, or fear a com- 
plaint. Next 1 must tell you, my chancellor 
had his patent from my predecessor, which I 
have not power to controwl; yet, make his in- 
justice appear, 1 will joyn with you to the utter- 
most of my small power to have it punished, 
for I abhorre it in a church officer. You seem 
to expect more justice from the civilians ther. 

t Herbert Croft, D. D. according to Godwin, being seduced^ 
when abroad, by the arts and blandishments of the Jesuits, be- 
came a Roman Catholic, and enrolled himself among.that order. 
On his return to England he saw, acknowledged, and forsook his 
error ; and was made Dean of Hereford, by Charles I. Inth^ 
year 1644, he was ejected from his deanery: but his temporary 
loss of dignity was rewarded, at the Restoration, by the see of 
Hereford; in which he died, May 1691. — Godwin de Prasulibus. 
The letter refers to a cause which had been sometime pending in 
the Bishop's Court, between Sir Henry Herbert, and John Boras- 
ston, parson of Bewdley, relative to tithes. Much and long- 
continued ill-will subsisted between the opposite parties, in 
consequence of this contest. The dispute was at length ter- 
minated, however, and the rector (as appears by a subsequent 
•tter) sincerely deplored the loss of his old opponent^ 



[ 69 J 

i have appointed my chancellor to wait on you 
next weeke ; get the justest civilian ther to you; 
let him manifest the nnjnst delayes you com- 
plain of; and I pray let the result be sent to me, in 
particular, for what answer can I make to de- 
layes in generall ? can I tell whether the fault 
be in the matter, or manner, or liow eke ? I 
profes I am not able to jud^e all formes of pro- 
cedinge ; but I knowe in all courts some formes 
are necessary, some pretended. To conclude : 
if you please to come to particulars, and by tha 
judgment of some knoweinge, just person, make 
the fault appeare, I shall be as forwarde as you 
to complaine, ('tis all I can do ;) but if this ap- 
pear not, I pray. Sir, be not so forward to con- 
demae the innocent, and. Sir, your affectionat 
kinsman and servant, 

H. HEREFORD, 

For Sir Henry Herbert, ^t liineoln-House, Tuttle-streetc, 
Westminster. 



LETTER XL. 

From Lady Elizabeth Herbert* to the sam^. 

21th August, \m — 
Sir, — Yours one Friday is racived, and yougoe 
one to improve Ribsfort; J if trouble and pleassure 

* Second wife to Sir Henry Herbert, 

X " Soon after the Conquest, Ribbesford became the habita- 
"tionof a knightly family, called i2i66e*/brrf ; which continued 
** here till the reif n of Edward III. It tame afterwards t# tht 



[ 70 ] 

may be gin*d tog^elher, you injoye bouth with 
the laying out of your money. Li Harry it lise 
to compleat the contentment to ons of all oure 
labours, and extrodinary bountis you intend 
and bestoe on him; his poetry is well accepted 
of by Uie, and I commend his obedience to my 
cali. My blessing on him. You have done a 
very good worke in boardine the larder and 
entry, the dineing^roome being boarded. I 
could wish a starecase at that end, then we neade 
not cary strangers by the buttry bach. The 
radish is so prejudicious, that 1 thinke in wet 
wether hare it is to thike ; if it weare removed 
to the banke on the outside of the wall, by the 

^* Barons Lisle, and descended to Sir John Dudley, knt. first 
" Viscount Lisle, then Earl of Warwick, and lastly Duke of 
" Northumberlaiid. After the attainder of this mighty peer, Sir 
" Eobert Acton was lord of Ribbesford, and was succeeded '\\\ 
*' it by his son, Robert Acton, esq; who, as we have seen in 
^' a former letter, alienated it to Sir H. Herbert. His son, 
" Henry Herbert, esq; was created Baron of Cherbur^ in the 
" reign of King William ; that title being before extinct, by the 
" failure of the main branch of the family. He was succeeded 
" in his title and estate at Ribbesford, in 1708, by his son, Henry' 
** Lord Heibert, then representative in L arlipment for Eewdley ; 
"who, on his lather's death, was called to tfee House of Peers. 
■' Be was high-steward and recorder ol Bewdley, till his death in 
" IvSS. Hejnarriedthe Honourable Mary Wallop, sisterof John 
" Viscouiit Limington, (afterwards Earl of Portsmouth,) by 
" whom havirg no issuf, the title became extirxt, and the manor 
" and estate of Ribbesfoid passed u^der his father's will to his 
" cousin, Henry IMoiley, esq."^ — JSash's Worcesterslnre, vol. it. 271. 
Rilbesloid afterwards came to George Powlett, Marquis ofWin^ 
cheslei ; who^in 1787, sold it to Fiaiicis Inpam^ esq; of TicknelL 
— Id. Corrections, 83o 



r 



[ 71 1 

mote, for if we ware thare on winter we shuld 
devore it. 

Baker, I hope, will bring* you to Hanslop ; 
for all other jornys I beleve you will disspence 
with this yeare, and save the hors mony to pay 
the leser dues. 

The Lady GuiTard, I here, is pretty well. Sir 
Willam Walter's son, the next week, is to mury 
the Lady Mary Taiiet, sister to the Lady Co- 
ventry, and I hare Walter hath promest him his 
estate after his death. Your dafters groe apase, 
and will want mony afore you can git it for them. 
Your loving wife, 

E. HERBERT. 

LETTER XLI. 

From Henry Herbert*, toJiis Father, 

Honoured Father, — I am h^artely glad 
to heare of your good health. Sir, I am very 
sorry to heare that you are not pleased with my 
epistle and verses ; and that it could not answer 
your expectations of me. Sir, I have made 
your letter into Lattin, which you sent to me. 
I hope to see you safe at Lyncoln-House on 
Satturday next. So 1 rest, your dutifull son, 

KENRY HERBERT. 
April lOth, 1667, at Lyncoln-House^ 
Westminster, 

For my honoured Father, Sir Henry Herbert, present. 

* Eldest son of Sir Henry Herbert, by his second wife, after- 
wa^fds Lord Herbert j in whom the'bairony was revived. 



[ 72 ] 

LETTER XLTI. 
From 11, Herbert* to the same. 

Most Honored Sir,— I Am much obliged to 
you for your last, in which you did not so severely 
chide me; though I must confess 1 did deserve 
it for the tpo presumptuous folly mine to you did 
assume. Since you have exc!ised it, you have 
obliged me beyond compare ; for folks faults, as 
their words, must not be too hard prest, for such 
violence obstructs the cure, and not promotes it. 
I have advized E. Herbert with the matters yours 
contained touching him. He is very much 
troubled that the bill of exchange failed^ He 
will suddenly redresse all ; for we both intend, 
God willing, to get forward for London op Mun- 
day next, our Christmas gamballs being done. 
You have the servises of this family to you, and 
especially from me, who am, your most affec- 
tionate nephew and servant^ 

H. HERBERT. 

My brother and selfe last week went to Mont- 
gomery to perform funeral ceremony to my 
Lady Brown ; who there now sleeps with her 
forefathers. 

* Brother of Edward, third Lord of Cherhury; and second son 
of Richard, the second Lord of Cherbyry, 



[ 73 ] 

LETTER XLIII. 

From the Lord Herbeut to the same. 

Kyssin, 1st June, 1669. 
Worthy Sir, — My brother Harry, as well 
as yourself have writ me word, that you are 
much taken with my Lord Ashley's sugar words. 
1 pray God they tire you uot as they did my 
brother, and my Lord Bridge water, and have 
putt mee past patience, which has occasioned the 
enclosed to their Lordships, and they are refered 
for your perusall. I pray read them both, and 
deliver my Lord Bridgewater's first, with a 
sight of that to my Lord Ashley, and consult my 
concerns here, to effect out of hand, or else my 
expectations must naturally faile ; the first going 
over being the chief time, L submit to your 
better judgement. But I suppose if the Lady 
Dowager Exeter were instructed with his Lord- 
ship's delaying, sliee might more freely speake 
to his Lordship ; and if noe effects appeared a 
weeke after, I think my letter will not bee 
amisse, and a sharper shall follow ; and then it 
will be time to cast about by Mr. Secretary 
Trevor, if you have any acquaintance with him, 
or by my Lord Bridgewater's interest with the 
Duke of York, Thus you see me in confu- 
sion ; certainly if tbe King did but know my 
desires, they would be granted, and those that 
are soe slack in presenting mine, and the desires 



', 



[ 74 3 

Ik 

of such as I am, are not his friends, for I am 

honest to the Cuown. I submitt to your better 

judment, and am, Sir, your humble servant and 

nephew, 

HERBERT. 

This is the fourth since your returne to Millbank. 

LETTER XL IV. 

From Sir Henry Herbert fo^/^e Earle of 
Manchester.* 

3Iill Bridge, Westminster^ July lo, 1669. 
My Lord, — The bearer hereof, Anthony 
Devotte informs me that Mr. Price, the sergeant 
trumpett, demandes of him twelve pence a day, 
as due to him from every player ; whereas 
Devotte is not in the notion of a player, but 
totally distinct froni that quality, and makes 
she we of puppettes only by virtue of his Ma- 
jestie's commission, granted to the Master of 
the Revells, under the greate seale, for authoriz- 
ing ail publique shewes. And the said Serjeant 

* Edward Montague, Earl of Manchester, Lord Chamberlain 
of the Houshold to Charles the 2d. He was one of the avowed 
patriots in the House of Peers, and the only member of that 
house who was accused by Charles I. of high treason, together 
with the five members of the House of Commons. In the civil 
war he had the charge of five of the associated counties; and 
raised an army of horse, which he commanded in his own person. 
After the battle of Newbury he was suspected of favouring the 
King's interest, accuse;d by Cromwell, and by the self-denying 
ordinance, deprived of his commission. He heartily concurred 
in the restoration of Charles II. ; and was appointed by him Lord 
Chamberlain. He died 5th May, 1671. — Granger, 



L 75 ] 

oiiglit not to Kiipose upon the said Devotte, and 
putt birti to great trouble and charges, but should 
have proceeded legally against him, in case Jie 
had refused to pi^y what was legally due. But 
the sergeant having arrested Devotte upon his 
pretended clayme of twelve pence a day, and 
declared against him, w^as nonsuited for not 
proceedinge, which is a matter of great vexation 
to a strong-er, and a strono:e aro^ament as-ainst 
the validity of the sergeantes grante. Your 
Lordship, therefore is humbly intreated on be- 
half of the said Devotte to appointe a day and 
houre when he shall attende your Lordship 
with his counsell, to be hearde before he be 
concluded in your Lordship's judgement. And 
that he may have the benefit of the law for his 
protection against the Sergeante's unjust de- 
mandes. This from your Lordship's very hum- 
ble servant, 

HENRY HERBERT. 

To tlie Right Hon. Edward Earle of Manchester, Lord Cham- 
berlayne of his Majestie's houshold. 

LETTER XLV. 

From Henry Herbert to Lady Elizabeth 
Hlrbert. 

From Trinibj College in Oxford^ 
Feb.Vl,\il0^l. 

Madam, — I am almost afrraid to presume to 
begibii to^writenovr, having been soe long silent; 



L 76 3 

yet your Ladyship's pardon being desired for 
that which is past, I come now, presenting* my 
humble duty, to promisse an amendment for the 
time to come. Indeed time is precious, and a 
good use is to be made of that which is soe. 
Neither can there be a better use than to exer- 
cise industry, and to employ it in things neces- 
sary, beginning' first with heavenly, than pro- 
ceeding to our own affaires; which are, being 
rightly observed, noe less profitable than lawful. 
What! do I instruct my instructesse ? I'll 
forbear, learning rather that I may write the 
name of your obedient sonne, 

H. HERBERT, 

My kind love to my sisters, and duty to my 
godfather, and kind wishes to all my friends. 

^^o his much honoured lady motlier, the Lady Elizabeth Her- 
bert. Present. 



LETTER XLVL 
From the same to the same. 

From my Chamber in TriJiity College^ Oxforde^ 

March 9, 1670—1. 

Madam. — If I fale in my indeavour, I hope 
a pardon may be gained, which is to heapc 
tliankes upon thankes, and yet too, too little 
they'll be, if I use my utmost skill, for the last 
received token ; which recompence, indeed, (I 



I 77 ] 

mean thankes, and my duty, obedience to be 
the greatest, nor will I be wanting" in the usual I 
ofference of the least of them,) should not be set 
downe with inke, but with a liquid corresponding 
its owne likeness, counterfeiting, though not to 
the full, the fore-mentioned bounty. Madam, 
your favours surpase my gratitude, which I 
shall endeavour to equalize,, though fall short, 
labouring alsoe to she we myself to be (which 
butte 1 hope to effect) according to my endea- 
vours, Madam, your obedient sonne, 

H. HERBERT. 

My kinde love to my sisters, and remem- 
brances to whome they are meet. 

These, for his honoured mother, the Lady Elizabeth Herbert. 

LETTER XLVIL 

From Abraham Campion* to Sir Henry 
Herbert. 

Sir, — For a father to see his son is a desire 
very reasonable, and has much of nature in it ; 
but there is something beyond nature, that might 
justly move you to a desire of seeing your son, 
whose disposition and discretion will recommend 
him to those that are lesse concerned in him then 
a father. You may discern his countenance to 

* " Abraham Campion, of Trinity college, Oxford, was ap^ 
*< pointed one of the proctors, April 9, 1673 ; and admitted moral 
" philosophic professor, in the place of Mr. Nathaniel Hodges, 
** the 2nst November in the same year/'— 'Tfoorf'* ^Menee, vol, ii. 862. 



[ 78 ]. 

be so free from g^iiilt, as suiHcieiitly to give in 
an ample testimony of his innocence. The Dean 
of Wells is not now with us. Being* you desired a 
line from me, 1 was resolved to scrible you one 
in haste, rather then not answer your desires. 
Sir, yours to serve yon, 

ABRAHAM CAMPION. 
Oxon, Ang. 19, — 71. 
Tbese for tlie Wor. Sir Henry Herbert. 

LETTER XLVI1I.=^ 

From Ei>WARD Loud HERBERTf to the same. 

Dublin, 1st Jan, 1^12, 
Sjr, — A good New-yeare to you and yours. 
I could wish this may meete some letters from 
you, tliat may informe mee of all your healths; 
for now it is an age since I heard from you, or 
any body else out of England. You were soe 
constant in your favours that wa}^ that I suspect 
some ill newes from the French army, and that 
you are loath to let me know it. The miscar- 

* These letters, written from Ireland, by Edvcard the third 
Lord Herbert of Cherbury, will be read with great interest. 
Their reasonings and descriptions apply as strongly to that 
country at this time, as they applied to it 160 years ago; and 
force upon us the melancholy reflection, that, while all the 
other nations of Europe have been progressively advancing in 
civilization, wealth, and consideration, that country, " for which/' 
as Burke emphatically said, " God had done so much, and man 
" so little," has been morally, politically, and' physically, littlfe 
altered, benefited, or improved. 

t Grandson of the first Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, 



r 79 1 

riao'e of tliat vouno- man would be the worst 
I coald heare ; but i aai a christian, and coakl 
submit to the worst can bee indicted on mee. I 
pray, Sir, bring mee out of this trouble by some 
comfortable newse of him. as likewise of the 
times and passages. There is nothing here 
worth notice, but that oar iord-lieutenant dines 
now publiquely,and by his civility gains on the 
better sort. The comsuons value only his money, 
which they say bee is too thrifty in keeping. 
Loves and services due, conclude mee, at thii 
time, Sir, your humble servant and nephew, 

HERBERT. 



LETTER XLIX. 

From Capt. Herbert* to the same. 

Nancy ^ Lorraine, Jan, 9, — 74. 
Most Honored Si u, — I desire you'll take 
care'of the enclosed, to send it according to its 
direction. It brings into the country the news 
of the death of that honest fellow that accom- 
panied me hither, by name Dr. John Higgins, 
He died in the city of Metz, 3d January, a pro- 
testant, and made a pious end. He was first 
taken with sickness at T reaves the fatal disease 
of our army. Itseazes on the brain first. If 
men have strength enough to repel its first efforts, 
it falls into their body, gives them the bloody 
fiux, or other looseness, which destroys many ; 
and if they escape this, it falls thence into their 
* Brother of Edward, third Lord Herbert, of Cherbuiy. 



L 80 ] 

leg's and feet, and rots off their toes, and sends 
them this way out of the world. His nature, it 
seems, resisted not the first fury of the disease. 
At the same time, another which belonged to 
me was thus surprized and died at Treavs ; both 
taken in one night, and in the same chamber 
where I lay, and had little service done to them, 
till 1 sent to the army for other servants to 
attend them, which 1 lef^ behind with them, 
and marched myselfe away with the regiment 
lieither to Nancy. There was nothing of care, 
physicke, or money wanting to them. I sup- 
ply 'd all this ere I parted from them; but 
death would not be put off at this time. It 
seems it was his commanding moment over 
nature, and she obey'd, much to my sorrowe, 
for he was the most honest, brave, and un- 
derstandinge fellovv that ever I mett with, and 
by his vertue had made himselfe physitian to the 
regiment, and saved many in thus loosing him- 
selfe. I imputed i1 to his perpetuall being 
amongst the sick ; but he is now gone, yet shall 
my good word ever follow him. 

Sir, this is all to solicite you for the Duke's; 
leave for me to send of hence for England. So 
I'll enlarge myselfe no further concerning the 
use that I shall make of it; but pray dispatch the 
leave to me severall ways, lest I should misse it. 
Sir, 1 am your most humble servant, 

H. HERBERT. 

My service in your family to all my most 
worthy relations. 



C Si ] 

LETTER L. 
From Lord HerberI" to tM same, 

Dublin, the 14:th Jan, 1672. 

Sir, — 'There are at this present eight 
packets due; and I hope, when they come, I 
shall hear from you, which I have not done by the 
three last that came in. Walcott is sent for into 
England as a delinquent. The truth is, what is 
said against him, and proved, is enough to hang 
him ; and yet it shall not enter into my brain, that 
hee has any complices, his proceedings and en- 
tentions beingsoecontrary to the English interest. 
The folly of this man has given such an advan- 
tadge to the whispering Irish, that, together with 
the Court's ill opinion of the late settled English, 
p'ives a sad alarme to those that are of antienter 
settlement, and ever of the King's party; for if 
ever the Irish interest pfevaile to unsettle the 
new English, the old will suffer in the throng, 
God cleare all to a right understanding. The 
purport of mine of the fift or sixt instant, touch- 
ing trade, I desire you to consider, with the best 
interest you can make, for the maxim of state 
has no good foundation, when it says, this king- 
iJom ?nust he kept poor i that it 7nay depend on 
England, Let it be rich in trade and inhabitants ^ 
and it will depend itpon it^ for the love of them^ 
selves and their own wealth. Wheras by keep- 
ing it continually poore, tbey, by warres and 



[ 82 ]• 

Rebellion, desi^ne to enriche themselves on their 
next neighbours' goods. If they were riche, 
they woulde study to keepe and improve their 
ow^ne, and would not be drawne in to the hazard of 
itt, and would render dependencies, just such as 
our English tenants to their landlords. 

God bless you and yours, are the prayers of 
your servant, 

HERBERT. 



LETTER LI. 
From the same to the same. 

Dublin f the LBth Jan, 1672. 

Sm,— I have received two letters from my 
brother in yours, which gives mee cause to re- 
joice, after I had despaired of his life ; and am 
obliged to you for the continuing mee in your 
memory. I pray, Sir, preserve me alive with 
your frequent notice of mee, and give mee your 
entelligence. I have writt to you the very 
quintessence of the state of this poore country, 
and offered it your interest for redresse, by your 
vote in Parliament, and a conversation with the 
Irish concerned men that are members of your 
owne House. There is noe newse here, but 
Walcott, who is sent with this pacquett for 
England. If there bee any truth in his affaires 
as they are now stated, hee could never have 
done the English soe much prejudice as his folly 



[ 83 ] 

has thrown on it ; arid yet that there can bee noe 
complices discovered, is the best argument in the 
world that the country is honest, I meane the 
English in it. I am for the country in a fort- 
night's time at farthest, God willing ; how long 
I shall stay there^ God knows. With servises to 
yourself and lady, good Sir, your obliged ne- 
phew and servantj 

HERBERT. 

If my orders miscarried for doe venison, you 
must take a revenge in the next buck season. 



LETTER Ltl. 
From the same to the same. 

Duhliii^ 20th Jan. 1672. 
SiRj— Yours of the 9th inst. came to my 
hands this day^ with a letter from my brother ; 
who, I perceive^ is in health, in the midst of 
sickness. God continue him healthy, and send 
him well amongst us ; and if with honor hee may 
lay aside his command and marry^ it would bee 
good newse ; but I dare not advise 'twixt love 
of family and reputation. You were but idly 
employed hitherto: now there is something for 
the councills of the nation to act : God send you 
unanimous when you meet, an4 not to scruple at 
a small inconvenience to our purses, in this time, 
when the honor and welfare of the king aftd 
kingdom are at stake. If the French King pro- 

Gr 2 



[ 84 ] 

ceeds in his conquests, and our King not in 
condition to hold him to his capitulations with 
him, wee shall be undone at home, and ridi- 
culous abroad; and doe not question but the 
French King will evade and impose, if the 
King has not money. Whether a land-tax, or 
general excise, is the question of fools, A land- 
tax will be very pernicious to the landlords, by 
disheartening the tenants, and indeed give them 
opportunity to impose on the landlords as to 
accounts, and price of lands. But it will be the 
wisest way for to advance the King money, with 
less loss, for his occasions ; the way of raising it, 
and the certain way, being soe well known. 
The generall excise will bee ea5»ist for the gen- 
try ; though it will be a buggbeare to a free- 
born Englishman, and a way the King will 
I'eceive but an uncertain supply in this exigent j 
of time; the bankers in the city having got such | 
a way of imposing upon the King in all new | 
things, untill they are better understood. And 
certainly, in my poof opinion, at long run, this I 
way will prove not only of less inconvenience, ' 
but an advantage to the gentry, and to cor- 
porations and towns now utterly wasted for 
want of trade. It will, indeed, change the way 
of living in England to a mere forraine way ; 
for it will drive all the gentry that can't brook 
the touch of their cellars, into the most conve- 
nient towns to their own estates, where they 
shall buy in the market what they need, and of 



£ 8o 1 

the brewer, who must bee the comon under- 
taker; 'twill enrich and fill all waste houses, 
encreas trade, and, instead of lessening* the 
gentry, give them a popular interest in the se- 
verall towns they live in. *Tis true it will be an 
occasione of ruine to many good houses ; but it 
will likewise be the occasion of bettering many 
villages, and making them grow to bee great 
towns, with markets and fairs. There is very 
much more to be said, foy it will be asked, what 
shall spend the produce of the land when hos- 
pitallity is laid aside by the gentry ? I will 
answer that — the pride of a trader, yes, and sta- 
billity to ; that any tradesman that has £:2000 
stocke and credit, shall waste in his famely more 
food and \yearing-apparell yearly, than any 
landed man that has £6090 worth of lands, 
having noe incom nor trade, but his rents. I'll 
say noe more on this large subject, but that my 
opinion is more for home excise, for the good of 
the kingdom, than for a land-tax; and more for 
a land-tax at this present for the King's imme- 
diate supply. Servises where due to you and 
yours, I am, your obliged nephew and servant, 

HERBERT. 

LETTER LITI. 

Fj'om the same to the same. 

Dublin, 26th Jan. 1072. 

Sir, — Your short letter, with one in it fiom 

my brother Harry, then in Nancy, came to 



C 86 ] 

hand last night. The times are not soe fickle as 
the proverb would make them, You heard from 
us of this world, daily, for two months allmost, 
and we'eve not a word from yours, for eight 
pacquets come together j now wee beare from you, 
and our letters vrill not sail against the wmd. 
A world of your members are gon aboard this 
evening, in hopes; and Mr. Henry Howard, who 
has many letters of mine to you and others. Sir, 
if I doe riot write sence, lay it not to my charge 
as a fault, for I have not slept these four nights 
and days, being troubled with such a cold and 
defluction of rheum, that if the country cures mee 
not, which 1 attempt to get into to-morrow, and 
soe for Kerry, yon may conclude me dead in a 
short time. God iitt mee for the change. I 
pray excuse me to my brother, if I doe not write 
at this time. I can hardly hold up my head or 
see, say to him ; I apa wonderfully sorry for the 
losse of his honest Higgins; and^ if 1 durst say it, 
I would have my brother come and stay in Eng- 
land, and marry. With services where due in 
your famely circle, your affectionate nephew, 

HEEBERT. 

I heaiie the person is married to the Lord 
Mohun. There, small nesse and remotenesse of 
estate was noe obstacle ; it was ngly selfe, and 
civilly excuseck 



r 87 ] 

LETTER LIV. 
From the same to the same. 

Castle Island, ISth Feb. 1672. 

Sir, — Yours of the28th Jan. has been in my 
hands this fortnight at least, and not answered 
till now that I am arrived at this place, which I 
could wish you had seene in the order it is now, 
for I think it a compleat house fitt to receive 
any nobleman, I wish I had such a one in 
Lymore Park, or at Cherbury, The longer I 
stay here, the better enabled I shall bee to make 
such a one at my returne. Be pleased to direct 
your letters for mee, to Mr. Worburton, the 
postmaster of Dublin care, and they will find 
mee. You write mee not that the Lady Bridges 
is married to my Lord Mohun, which I hear 
from other hands. Shee has the younger man, 
but I know who has the better estate nearest to 
London. Now it will bee lawful I, and noe 
ill manners to looke out for advantage. That 
concerning the Earle of Northampton I wonder 
not much at. There is no newse stirring here, 
but that since the King ordered the lord-lief- 
tenant to issue out a proclamation, to settle the 
minds of his English subjects, the natives have 
been a little out of countenance. 

Loves and servises as due, and soe I rest your 
obliged 4^ephewe and servant, 

HERBERT. 



[ S8 ] 
LETTER LV. 
From the same. 

Castle Island, the '20th Feb, 1672. 

Sir, — Now I am beyond the tempter's reach, 
(viz. the lord-lieftenant,) I shall hardly leave 
you a weeke unsaluted, though I have nothing 
else to say. The more I consider this place, the 
more I like it, and wish I had had my ovvne will at 
my Lord of Ormondes first coming over; but it is 
better late than never, and tho I banish myself 
my native country, and my acquaintance, yet 
am I in my vocation; my birth-right concerns. 
The more I look on my house, the more I like it; 
and if my brother Henry comes over, 1 could 
wishmycosen Henry, your son, would beare him 
company. Hee'le run noe more hazard than 
my owne visible heire. They will neither of 
them give an ill report of the country at theire 
returne; possibly Slevelogher will be trouble- 
some, but with a guide there is no danger. 
Excuse me to my brother, that I write not to 
him this post, 1 writ the last. Receive and 
distribute my servises and love in your famely; 
and soe I rest your aifectionate nephew and 
servant, 

HERBERT. 



[ 89 ] 

LETTER LVI. 

From the same to the same. 

Sir, — I had not time to welcome myselfe 
home with one glasse of drinke, ere your letter 
for money was delivered mee, which I tooke 
care to comply with, and all before I dranke ^ 
for I sent a servant with the fifty pounds due to 
my brother last Lady-day, to Lloydd, the carrier 
of fowles, who has undertaken the payment of 
it in London, as you shall perceive by the en- 
closed : and then for your thirty pounds, I shall 
be sure upon the day to send it and a buck to 
Kibsford. Be pleased to write your acquittance 
at the bottom of the enclosed, and that I may 
receive it by the carrier. With my services 
to yourself and lady, and my good cosens, I rest. 
Sir, your humble servient and nephew, 

UthJuhj,\Q12. HERBERT. 

LETTER LVII. 
From the same to the same, 

Dublin, the I9th Dec. 1672. 

Sir, — If the w'inds prove not favourable, (of 
the changes of which wee have newse from the 
postmaster's notice,) 'tis not to be imputed to 
mee that you heare not more frequently from 
mee. There have three pacquets come from 



i 90 ] 

England, and not one word from you or any 
body else, which makes mee looke upon myself 
as a forlorne vagabond. 'Twould bee acceptable 
to heare from Andrew Newport at his leisure, 
which, to soe reddy a writer as himself, will 
hardly take up two minutes time. This bee 
pleased to say to him, I presume you will not 
fail me in this point. We have noe newse in 
Ireland, but that Walcott continues still a pri- 
soner of state; and on his account the governors 
and officers doe stricter duty in the garrisons 
and quarters. Ourlord-lieftenant keepes his army 
in excellent order, and for the number of them 
they are as good as any in the world. Our lord 
lieftenant grows stronger, and in better health. 
The marchants of this kingdom find soe much 
hazard at sea, that they move for to have some 
friggatts assigned them for convoys; and being 
soe reasonably modest as to offer to maintain 
them at theire own charge, it is pitty but they 
should thrive in their request. 

Services where due in your family, and accept 
the wishes of a merry Christmas to you all. I 
am, Sir, your humble servant and nephewe, 

HERBERT. 

I could wish my brother at home in London, 
but I feare the active posture of the armies will 
not afford him sufficient leasure fpr English 
brawne, and plum pottage. 



[ 91 ] 

LETTER LVIIL 
From C^/9^. Herbert^ to the same. 

At Liege, the 24th Aug, 1672; Stilo Novo/ 

Most Honored Sir, — I am confident the 
time seemes long' since you received my lines. 
But there is this reason for it, when we rose from 
before Bar-le-duc, the army divided into small 
brigades for the benefit of marching ; and ours, 
which consisted of three thousand horse, came 
to Mastick, and have laine there confronting the 
foe this three weeks. We dayly beat them 
into the town, and have incessant skirmiches 
with them. This little body of men had not the 
honour of having a post to attendit,till now that 
the King's houshold is added to nas, consisting 
of 8000 horse ; and though I have the opportunity 
of writing to you, yet I expect not of hearing 
from you; neither can I give you directions 
how to send, more positive, than to the camp before 
Mastick, commanded by Monsieur Rochford. 
We expect Turenne up with another army. 
When that appears, 'tis to be thought we may 
attack it by way of siege. Hitherto we have 
done nothing but destroyed their forage about 
the town. We have encamped very close by 
the walls, their canon having done execution on 
us severall times. I begin to wish the towne 
* Brother of Lord Edward Herbert.— ^^e Lttter liii. 



[ 92 ] 

ours, that we may come to winters quarters, and 
606 have convenience of coming for England. 

In this towne of Leige there is a priory of 
Jesuits, English, and a monastery of English 
nuns, both which I have visited. The women 
are handsom, and the men civil. Having 
engaged me to dine with them to-day, I shal 
here taste whether the Roman victualls be not 
more pleasant than their tenets. I expect this 
day's work will afford me a whole pacquett of 
observations. Sir, I shall trouble you noe 
farther at this time, I am tinfeignedly your 
most obliged and obedient, 

H. HEKBERT. 

Excuse me, I pray, to those that inquire after 
me, that I doe not write; but acquaint them that 
I am well, and at their service. 



LETTER LIX. 

From the same to the same. 

Neare Bonne, the residence of the Bishope of 
Colen, Nov. 1st 1C72. 

Honok'd Sir, — I received two letters from 
you lately; one speaks of £50 from my brother, 
which he sent up to you;' I have than|^t him. 
I'll assure you I shall be as poore as Job when 
1 come over, and will endeavour to live a la 
soldate, rather than trQu^le yoii. I have con- 



[ 93 ] 

tinually wHtt to yoa, and the way your last 
letters came are certain enough, I think; but 
be careful what you write, only I desire you'd 
impart common nevvse, I think it may not 
displease, if I give you a journal of our marched 
from Mastrich, whence we decamped August 
30th toMaseric ; 5th Sept. to Graves, there pass'd 
the Meaux; 6th, to Juniper; 7th, to Cleaves, 
the Ducal city, whence our uxorious King 
Henry VIII. had one of his eight wives; 9th, to 
Wesel, and pass*d the Rhine by bridge of boats; 
10th, to Mulheim, on the river Roir, where we 
first, this year, lay under cover, men and horses; 
we call it forage quarters, being till this time en- 
camped in the open field; 24th, to Agilkirk; 29th, 
to Geselkirk ; 30th, to Netwick. From Wesel, 
the right wing of our army kept close to the 
Rhine, and still march up the stream. 2d Oct. 
we pass'd Keyserwert, where we came over in 
the spring; 5th, at Cranberge ; 6th, the whole 
army, 40,000, passed by DusseldorlF. The resi- 
dence of the Duke of Newberg (whose country 
we spoil this turn) lyes on the Rhine ; little, but 
pretty; the fortifications regular, but are finish- 
ing at this time. I saw him in the towne ; hii§ 
Court is not splendide. His pretending to 
be King of Poland made him run in debt to the 
French, which is not yet paid ; and it may be 
supposed that the King of France pays himselfe 
by foraging his army on the country. 7th, at 
Mulheim; hence I went to Colon, a large town 



C 94 1 

of great trade, but few gentry to be seen in it, 
which makes it not so agreeable to the eye. 
The 9th, at Orback, and lay there till the 28th; 
then march*d to Blankenberge, where we now 
are. We pass'd the river Leige three times in 
this march. We on the left wing are thrust up 
amonge the boors, where we give and receive 
much damage, being ever most exposed of the 
whole army, by lying near the brutish foe. We 
quarter at present within musket shot of their 
guards, who make us watchfull. These destroy 
the country before us, and flanke us soe close, 
that we pay dearly for our victuall oft-times; yet 
necessity tells us it must be had, for our pay 
can't maintain us, nor doe their orders confine 
us in this. They have barriers on their great 
passes, and trenches to defend them, well lin'd 
with boores ; and they relieve their guard, and 
doe things as confidently and orderly as the most 
disciplined army. We march to day this Nov. 
1st. They tell us we shall leave Coblentz, and 
march directly for Frankford, and thence to 
Strassburghe, and soe pass into Lorain, being 
then within 7 leagues. 

Keceive my best love and service, and present 
it. I'm your servant^ 

H. HERBERT. 



[ 95 ] 

LETTER LX. 
From T. Offley to the same, 

Nov. 2'2d, —73. 

Deare Cousen, — The hopes of seiug you 
here caused my silence, nor cati I be satisfied, 
iintill you let me heare from you when you will 
give me the happiness of your company. The 
great news here at present is the coming of the 
Duke*. The Parliament of Scotland hatU 
voted severall grievances ; Duke Lotherdell is 
the occation : itt's thought he will be put out 
of commistion. Eight hundred of Sir Will 
Lockier's men going for France, taken and car- 
ried into Holland. My mother this day gon to 
my sister Lawrence's. My sister Sa. hath beea 
withhir five weeks, and stayeth tell my sister is 
brought to bed. If any thinge I can doe here 
for you, pray lett me know, and you will oblidge 
your affectionate kindsman to command, 

THO. OFFLEY. 

Pray, my services to aunt and cousens. 

LETTER LXr. 

From the Rev, John Boraston§'^o Henrt 
Herbert, Esq; 

Worthy and Hopepuli^ Sm, —Your 

letter of May 6 I received May 9, in the after- 

* Duke of York, afterwards James II. 

^ Wood makes meEliaa of one George Boiaston, of "W^adham 
college, author of '* the Eoyal Law, or the Goldeu RuIq of Jus* 



[ 96 ] 

noone, wherein you confirme what I heard 
before, the death of your deare father. Death 
is certain, and appohited to all ; our dayes are 
determined, monthes numbered, and boundes 
unpassable sett. The Lord gave him the bles- 
singe of long life, and, we hope, a blessed death 
after old age, which is a crowne of glory, being- 
found in the way ofrighteousnesse ; and a crowne 
of glory in heaven is layd up for such an hoary 
righteous head. The blessedness of our deare 
deceased relations is handkerchiefe enoug^h to 
dry our eyes; and the will and act of the 
Almighty, sufficient to measure our mourn - 
inge, as men of hope, which is allowed by, and 
will be pleasing to him who hath done it. 

tice and Charity/' and of a Sermon, preached at the anniversary 
meeting of the gentlemen, inhabitants of London, and others, 
born within the county of Worcester, 29th Nov. 1683; and 
adds that his father vpas minister of Bewdley, in the same 
county. (A then. Oxon. vol. it. 787. J The author of the above 
letter, Mr. John Boraston, held this preferment for many yearsr, 
but not under the most comfortable circumstances. For a long 
time he, was engaged in a troublesome tithe cause witli Sir H. 
Herbert. From the oath (a copy of which is given in the Ap- 
pendix) administered to him early in the war between the King 
and Parliament, it should seem that his allegiance was suspected 
by the Royal party; and from the articles exhibited against him 
by his parishioners, (Append.) it is clear that he was known, 
and disliked by them, as a Royalist. If in consequence of these 
charges, he was dispossessed of his benefice, (which was most 
likely the case,) he was rewarded by living to see the restoration, 
and to resume again the preferment he had lost. See Appendix, 
John Boraston was prebendary of Hereford; rector of Ribbes- 
ford 58 years ; and died 29th Dec. 1688, aged 85. He lies buried 
at Ribbesford. He was succeeded in the rectory by Ajathonj 
Lucas, presented by Henry Herbert, esq. 



[ 97 ] 

A burgesse's place for Parliament is now 
voide, in reference wliereunto I shall neither 
make excuse nor other apologie for what I have 
done, but laying the truth before you, and I 
hope your ingenuity will determine me unworthy 
blame. On Saturday Aprill 12, a speciall friend 
of Mr. Tho. Foley, senior, wrote to me, that 
Sir Henry Herbert was under a remodel esse 
distemper, and that it would be most acceptable 
to Mr, Foley to be our succeedinge burgesse, 
though Mr. Foley would not, himselfe, move 
whiles Sir H. Herbert was livinge. I assured 
ray assistance, in a letter, by the messenger; and 
going about noone into the towne, to present the 
motion to Mr. BayliiFe, he shewed me a letter 
requesting the succession for you, of which I 
heard nothing before. I spake with others of 
the twelve that daye, and in fewe wordes, dis- 
coursed both your desires, without asking for 
promise or hand of any one person that day or 
since. Mr. Foley, hearing of Sir H. Herbert's 
death, came to Bewdley May 5, and lighting at 
the George, desired the company of those that 
have votes: many came ; they dined with him; 
and after dinner he expressed his desire to them 
ail, which seemed to me to be generally approved 
of; Mr. BaylifFe, and some who gave hands 
for you, were not there. Thus far I have been 
true to my promise : to be true to which, were 
it your owne case, 1 knowe you will commend. 
Sir Henry Littleton sent Mr. Bowles, May 2d, 

H 



I 98 ] 

to me witli the same motion ; yet, with my much 
respect to the worthy knight, I assured him of 
my promise for Mr. Foley. When I can, and 
shall, promise, in any speciall affaire, to serve 
you, I shall (GoB willing) approve myselfe 
most faithfull. I hope shortly to waite uppon 
you at Ribsford, to bid you welcome thither, 
and to be welcome there. Sir, I am your hum- 
ble servant in what justly I may, 

JOHN BORASTON. 

My humble respects to your lady mother, and 
your young ladyes. 



LETTER LXIL 
From Lord Newport to H. Herbert, EsqJ'' 

Eytouy 20th Aug, 73. 

Good Cosen, — Yours of the 6th sent to 
London, came to my hands on Monday last, p. 

* Mr. Herbert did not succeed in his canvas at this time ; Thos. 
Foley, the elder, being returned member for Bewdley. He was 
more fortunate, however, a few years afterwards, as may be 
gathered from the following letter from the Rev. Mr. Lucas, to 
whom Mr. Herbert had given the living of Ribbesford, on the 
demise of Mr. Boraston : 

" Bewdley, 3d March, 1689—90. 

"Hon. Sir, — ■! have just time, being amongst your friends, 
" to signifye to you, that you are unanimously chosen the repre- 
" sentative of Bewdley. I heartily congratulate it, and assure 
"you that all things were performed with decency ; and, I hope, 
« to all people's satisfaction. Mr. Foley and Mr. James weie 



I 99 ] 

poste, and not before; the letter it was enclosed in 
should have come a weeke sooner alsoe; by what 
uiischanceit did not, I cannot tell. I was at Areiy 
the next day after you writ your lettere. I have 
sent you notes inclosed to the persons you desire; 
I wish they may not come too late ; and but 
to satisfye you, I should not have let my name 
be exposed at this tyme, for I doe not love to 
play after games, especially w^here there is not 
a probability of prevailing*; but I cannot denye 
you any thing-, being, Sir, your very affectinate 
and humble servant, 

NEWPORT- 

To my much-hononred Cosen, Henry Herbert, esq;^ at Ribes- 
ford in Worcestershire. 

(Endorsed.)— A cooy of the Notes sent to 
William Wood and Thomas Weaver. 

'* present; the latter obliges me to present you with his humble 
" service. Accept of mine, as likewise to my lady andlittle Mister. 
" I am, Hon. Patron^ your most faithfull and most obliged servant, 

" ANTHONY LUCAS. 

" For Henry Herbert, esq; at the Lady Herbert's, in Leicester- 
" fields, London." 

From the following list, in the Introduction to Dr. Nash's 
History of Worcestershire, of the members for Bewdley, it 
should seem that Mr. Herbert was returned for that borough two 
years before the dateof the above letter — 1661, Sir Henry Herbert; 
16?3, Thomas Foley, the elder, esq; 1679, Philip Foley, esq; 1680, 
Philip Foley, esq; 1685, Sir Charles Lyttleton; 11th January, 1688, 
Henry Herbert, esq; 3d January, 1690, Henry Herbert, esa: after- 
wards Lord Herbert of Cherbury. From 1694 to 1705, Salway 
Wimiington, esq; — 13th May, V708, Henry Herbert, esq; — 2d 
March, 1708, Charles Cormvall, in the room of H. Herbert, esq; 
$;alled to the House oi Peers on the death of hk iathfir. 

h2 



[ 100 ] 

I desire you will give your voice to my cosen, 
H. Herbert, esq; to elect him burgesse of Par- 
liament for Bewdley, which will be taken kindly 
by your loveing friend, 

Eyton, 20th Aug. 1673. NEWPORT. 



LETTER LXIII. 

From Henry Herbert, Esq; to the Right Hon. 
^S'lr Edward Turner.* 

Ilibsford,Sept.SO,—'73. 

My Lord, — The countinance your Lord- 
ship w^as pleased to give me lately at the 
asseizes, and the faire respect you had for my 
deare father, incourage me to make this tender 
of a request to your Lordship, by a servant*s 
hands, who is sent on purpose ; the main cause 
of which being a command layed on me by my 
father on his death-bed, to endeavour to succeed 
iiim in Parliament, which, by your Lordship's as- 
sistance, I doubt not to bring to a fair issue: For 
Mr. Thomas Foley, senior, my antagonist in 
this election, for burgesse of Bewdley, to sit in 
Parliament, although a non-conformist, may be 
a sherifFe for Worcestershire, fit in severall re- 

* Sir Edward Turner was Speaker of the House of Commons 
in 1670; but being made Chief Baron of the Exchequer, was 
succeeded in the office of Speaker^ by Sir Job Carleton, 4th Feb. 
1072. . 



r 101 3 

aspects, which are well knowne to your Lordship. 
He stands nominated, in the booke of the clerk 
of the assizes, amongst the persons that are to 
be presented to your Lordship, and the other 
judges, for the yeare ensewing; and if your 
Lordship will be pleased to require Mr. Parker 
not to alter his list, which I am informed Foley 
endeavours, it will be a great furtherance in my 
businesse, and an obligation to, my Lord, your 
Lordship's most humble servant, 

H. HERBERT. 

For the Right Hon. Sir Edward Turner, Lord Chiefe Baron. 



LETTER LXIV. 

From Charles Cornwallis to Heni^y 
Herbert, Esq. ^ 

SthNov.l67S. 

Sir, — I give you many thankesfor your kind 
letter sent me by Mr. Vaughan, and doe assure 
you, I shall ever be ready to ingage all my 
interest to serve you in this or any other afFayer. 

I heartily wish I had been sooner informed 
of your pretensions at Bewdley, which came to 
my knowledge by meere chance. If I had, it 
is possible I might have done you some service. 
The Parliament was prorogued upon Tuesday 
last untillthe 7th ofjauuary next, by which meanes 



[ 102 1 

the writ sent downe is invalid; of this I had given 
yon notice sooner, had I not been under a great 
indisposition, and at present am not well. 

If hereafter you conceive I may, by any 
interest I have, serve you, in this affayre, be 
pleased to comand, Sir, your most faithful! 
servant, 

CHAS. CORNWALLIS. 

I pray present my humble service to my good 
lady your mother, and to your sisters. 

For Henry Herbert, esq; at Ribsford,neare Bewdley, Worces- 
tershire. — ^Frauck, Charles Cornwallis. 



LETTER LXV. 

From Henry Herbert, Esq; to Charles 
Cornwallis, Esq. 

Ribsford, Nov, 17, nod, 

Sm, — Yours of the 8th of this m on the is re- 
ceived, which makes out a great deal of kind- 
nesse for me, and a readinesse in you to adde 
to your promises performances; which I have 
no reason in the lest to suspect, you having 
already given me no small indices of your good 
disposition. The newes of an indisposel you 
laboured under was very ungratefuil to me ; 
and I hope by this time your health is returned 



[ 103 3 

to its proper manner. The generality of your 
acquaintance, gained by your owne worth, will 
be of advantage to me, you having assured 
me of your interest. If the Parliament had not 
been prorogued, I designed for London the last 
weeke; but shall very sincerely returne you 
personall thankes for your favours sliewne to, 
Sir, your most obliged servant, 

11. HERBERT. 
My mother conveys her best service to you. 

LETTER LXVr. 

From Sir Francis Winnington to H. 
Herbert, Esq. 

Sir, — The affaire between e vou and Mr. 
Boraston, together with some private concernes 
of mine owne, hathdelaied my journey for a day 
or two, but to-morrow certainly I goe for Lon- 
don: therefore I have sent the messenger on 
purpose with the articles, which, if 3^ou and Mr. 
Boraston will give creditt to me, I have drawn 
up as aifectually as I can, according to your 
agreement and intention. But before 1 would 
have it ingrossed, I thought it convenient you 
should see it ; and if neither of you can send me 
a reason to alter it, I will have it ingrossed, and 
send it to you from mee to-morrow. Bee 
pleased to let Mr. Boraston have a view of it, 



[ 104 1 

and returne it backe by the same messenger to 
Sir, your most humble servant, 

FRA. WINNINGTON. 

Stanford Court, 29th Sept, —74. 

My humble service attends your lady mother. 

To my highly honored friend — Herbert, esq; at Ribsford, 
neare Bewdley, present. 

LETTER LXVII. 

I^rom Monsieur de la Place^ to the same, 

\ London, Feb, 4, 1678. 

Sir,— This is to convey into your hands these 
enclosed, which I had this night from my Lady. 
You shall have with them the Gazette, which 
containes the home and foreigne news, such as 
we have, for the times are very barren. The 
Dutch post is wanting for above a fortnight, 
though the wind hath been good most part of 
that time, which makes men think that soni 
other reason than the weather is the cause of it. 

* Monsieur de la Place was, probably, one of the many French 
Protestants, v/ho quitted France during the cruel persecution 
against that great body of unfortmiate people, which was in- 
stituted by Cardinal Richelieu, and consummated in the famous 
revocation of the edict of Nantes. He seems to have been re- 
tained by Mr. Herbert, as an humble friend, and political jackal ; 
who was to vvatch, search out, and communicate to his employer, 
during his residence in the country, every political movement in 
these eventful and agitated times. The letters of this intelligent 
Frenchman which follow are highly interesting, as they aflord 
many very curious circumstances of minute history, which are 
not mentioned by any of our historians. 



[ 105 ] 

Wee have a French post, which saith but little. 
Here 3^011 shall fiade alsoe an order of the coun- 
cill, which pleaseth the people very well. But 
if yon think it cometh late to your hands by the 
date of it, blame me not for that, for it came 
abroad but this day. All our talk now is about 
the election of Parliament men for West- 
minster; wee thoug'ht to have Sir Tho. Clarg'is 
for one, but som think he will hardly stand or 
contest, if it cost much. Sir Wm. Waller was 
lookt upon for one, but I heare he was taken the 
other day upon an execution. But Capt. Ar- 
nold, the brewer, stands fairest of all for it, 
having" a great party in Westminster, Here we 
long" to heare how affaires goe in your parts, 
which, if you please to impart, you shall oblige. 
Sir, your most humble and obedient servant, 

J3AN.de LAPLACE. 



LETTER LXVIII. 
Froin the same to the same, 

London^ Oct, 26, 1678. 

Sill, — Last night I received the basket my 
Lady was pleased to send to me; and I entreate 
you that she may find here, with my humble 
service, my humble and hearty thanks for my 
good pye. Mrs. Lloyd had her pan this morn-- 
jng; and Mrs. Strong shall have her cheese 



[ 106 ] 

when she pleaseth. Sir Henry Littleton pre- 
sents his service to you, and to all the ladyes 
and should be glad to see you here. 

This morning* I delivered your letter to my 
Lord Newport, who, having- read it, told me he 
would give you an answer by this post. Sooner 
I could not give it him, though I spent yester- 
day all the day in way ting for an opportunity; 
and though I spoke with him at the doore of the 
Lords' house, yett would he not heare me, nor 
take the letter; he was in such haste he w^ould 
speake with nobody. 

Your presence in the Parliament is as neces- 
sary as ever it can be. The life of the K., the 
state of the kingdom, and our religion, lying all 
at stake. Your friends doe wish yon here, as 
Dr. Offley, Capt. Herbert, Sir Heo. Littleton, 
and others, and doe wonder at your absence. 

The Parliament seems to take to heart the 
business of the plot*, more than the Councill 
did, and act m it more vigorously. They have 

* When the minds of men were in the disposition which sach 
a state of things was naturally calculated to produce, it is not to 
be wondered at, that a ready, and, perhaps, a too facile, belief 
should have been accorded to the rumour of a Popish plot. But 
with the largest possible allowance for the just apprehensions 
which were entertained, and the consequent irritation of the 
country, it is wholly inconceivable how such a plot as that brought 
forward by Tongue and Gates could obtain any general belief. 
Nor can any stretch of candour make us admit it as probable, 
that all who pretended a belief of it did seriously maintain it. 
There are cases where reason speaks so plainly, as to make all 
argument drawn from authority of no avail ; and this is surely 
one of them. Not to mention correspondence by post, on the 



[ 107 j 

sat upon the examination of Oates§ most part 
of this week, and som dayes till 12 at night. 
Thursday last the Commons sent for my Lord 
Chief Justice, and told him they had there 
before them a man who had discovered a plot 
against the Ring's person and the State, and 
who did charge with treason severall persons of 
a high rank, not yett apprehended. He knew 
his doty, and they wisht him to doe what did 
belong to his place on that occasion. Where- 
upon my Lord tooke Oates in a chamber by, 
and gave him his oath ; upon which, havino* 

subject of Regicide, detailed commissions from the Pope, silver 
bullets, &c. &c. and other circumstances equally ridiculous, we 
need only advert to the part attributed to the Spanish Gov era- 
ment in this conspiracy, and to the alkged intention of mmder- 
ing the King, to satisfy ourselves that it was a forgery. jFqx's 
History, ^c. p. 31. The alleged objects of the plot were three- 
fold; 1, to kill the King; 2, to subvert the Government; aad, 3, 
to extirpate the Protestant religion, and establish Popery: and 
the promoters and abettors of it were said to be, Pope Innocent the 
XI.; several Cardinals and Jesuits; La Chaise, confessor to 
Louis XIV.; the Lords Petre, Powis, Beilasis, Arundel of War- 
dour, Stafford, and several other persons of quality. 

§ Titus Oates, a clergyman of the Church of England, but wild 
in his religious principles, and infamous in his morals. " In the 
" year 1677, being abandoned, and in want of common necessaries, 
" he fell into the acquaintance of Dr. Israel Tonge, a city divine, 
'' a man of letters, and a prolific head, full of variety of projects, 
*' and scarce ever without a pen in his hand, and a plot in his 
" head." — Eckard. Of Dr. Tonge, Oates became the willing in- 
strument; and having spent some time among the Jesuits and 
Papists, at home and abroad, he brought his materials to his 
employer ; who, with his assistance, framed the papers or nar- 
ratives delivered by Tonge to the King and the Lord Treasurer 
Derby.- — Burnet; and Rapin, v. iuQ^d* 



L 108 ] 

named several Lords, he issued out his warrants 
for the apprehension of the following* Lords: 
Arundell, Powitz, Bellassis, Peters, Stafford, and 
Sir George Wakeman. That night the two 
first and the last were apprehended, and carried 
to the Gate-house; in the morning there was a 
hott debate in the House of Lords about the 
priviledges of their members, as if they had been 
violated in the imprisoning of the said lords in 
that manner. But it soon appeared that all was 
done legally. The other lords, I heare, have 
been apprehended since, and the Lord Castle- 
maine. The Lord Baltimore is also charged 
with the plot ; but whether he be in England, 
or his government Maryland, I know not. 

The city of London keepes very strong guards; 
but I doe not heare that any are kept here. 
To-day the city sent to the King, to offer him 
to raise the traine-bands for the security of his 
person ; but I heare it was not accepted. 

Great newes from beyond sea. Stralsund is 
taken, surrendered to the Elector of Brande- 
bourgh the 22d instant. His batteries being 
finished, he battered the city with bombes and 
hot bullets, which did sett it on fire, which could 
not be quenched, and burnt allmost all the city 
in two dayes. After the first day, the citizens 
would have surrendered ; but it was not in their 
power. Tiie Swedes had seized their posts, 
when they went to quench the fire. The se- 
cond day the Swedes surrendered, and are to 



[ 109 ] 

march off for Swedland, with all the cannon and 
morter-piece belonging to the King of Swed- 
land. The city keepes its ancient priviledges. 
In haste I remaine, Sir, your most obedient 

servaiit, 

D. DE LA PLACE. 

These for Henry Herbert, esq; a Member of the House of 
Commons, at Ribsford, to be left at the Post-house in 
Bewdley. 



LETTER LXIX. 
From the same to the same, 

London, Oct. 29, 1678. 
Sir, — This is to convey unto you the in- 
closed. I thought I should have had one or two 
proclamations more to send you, about the fast, 
and the banishing of Papists out of London ; 
but they are not yett com out. 

The King did not goe to-day to my Lord 
Mayor's feast, as he had promised when h^ was 
first invited. He seemes to fear a little more 
the plott than at first, whether it be by reason 
of greater discoveryes, or out of -compliance 
with the Parliament; for St. James's Park is 
not accessible as formerly, and the doors the 
courtiers had in it are stopt. Besides, w hen the 
. King goes out, he goes better guarded. This 
day, alsoe, he accepted the trained bands, but 
how far 1 know not y for the Commons, in their 
addresse to him, had demanded them for th^ 



[ no 1 

g^yard of Whitehall, and of the Parliament 
during this session. 

Gates and Tonge have been exaniined by the 
Commonrs, and then by the Lords; and five 
lords have been sent to examine Coleman.''*' The 
papers of examination of Gates and Tongue 
about the plot, and the fire of London, at the 
desire of the Commons have been sent to them. 
Because the papers of Langhornef (of whom I 
spoke formerly) are many, a committee is ap» 
pointed to examine them. 

Yesterday, the Duchess of Mazarine§ was 
e{!^amined before the King and Council, but 
what was the result I know not. 

* Edward Coleman was secretary to the Duke of York. Bur- 
net says^ that he had a whole day to make his escape, and had 
conveyed all his papers out of the way ; only he forgot a drawer 
under the tahle, in which papers relating to 1674 and 5 were left. 
Had he withdrawn all his papers, nothing had appeared : had h& 
left all, it might have been concluded that the whole secret lay 
in them. He was tried, condemned, and executed. 

t Another person apprehended under charge of being con- 
cerned in the plot. 

§ Hortense Manchini was, by permission of Lewis XIV. heiress 
to the title, arms, and estates of her uncle, the famous Cardinal 
Mazarine ; all which she transferred, by a marriage contract, to the 
Duke of Meilleraye, whom she espoused. She possessed every 
qualification that could inspire love, and appears to have been 
very susceptible of that passion herself. Having quarrelled with 
the Duke her husband, she came to England, flushed with the 
conquests she had made in her own country. She had evidently a 
design upon Charles 11. and was regarded as a most formidable 
rival to the Duchess of Portsmouth. It is said, that the disco- 
very of an intrigue, in which she imprudently engaged soon after 
she came over, prevented her gaining the ascendant in the royai 



t 111 3 

The' Ring having understood that two friars,, 
charged with the plot, are ver}^ sick,^their seizure 
is forborne. 

Yesterday a house in Spitalfields was a fire, 
but soone quenched ; after which a match wds 
found in the roome. Some tooke notice of a 
suspicious fellow, who had been seene larking 
thereabouts some dayes before. Upon search 
he was apprehended, and about him was found 
€70 in gold, and £10 in silver, though he was 
in very poore and pitiful clothes. He had 
taken a very poore lodging hard by, and in it 
they found a naked sword under his pillow^, and 
a dagger. At first he pretended not to under- 
stand English, French, or Latin; but at last, 
finding himself in danger, he writt a letter in 
Latin to Mr. Hill, formerly a minister in Hol- 
land, and whom I suppose you know; who 
being come to him, knew him for a Jesuit or 
friar, whom he had seen in Flanders or Holland. 
Whether guilty of any thing or not, I know not 
yett. This story is true. 

The bill for excluding the Papists from sitting 
in either House of Parliament is past thq 
Commons. 

The letters from Holland say, that the am^ 
bassadors of the Emperor and of the Dnke of 

favour. The Kin^, however, assigned her an annual pension of 
£4000. She lived many years at Chelsea ; where her house was 
daily resorted to by the witty, the gallant, and the polite. Among 
these, St EvrcmQiid was her avowed admirer. She died 2d 
July, 1699. 



[ H2 ] 

Loraine, at Nimeguen, had accepted of tlie 
peace upon the termes proposed by the French 
last winter. 

This is all at present from, Sir, your most 
humble and obedient servant, 

D. DE LA PLACE. 



LETTER LXX. 
From the same to the same. 

London, Oct. 31, 1678. 

Sir, — I Doe now expect you every day, having 
told you by two former letters how necessary it 
was you should be here in Parliament. You 
may imagine that som will make no good con- 
struction of your absence. 

This night was buried Sir Edm. Godfrey* in 
St. Martin's church, with a sermon, and an ex- 
traordinary concourse of people. 

My Lord Sunderland is come home from 
France, and with him came Sir Ellis Leighton, 

* Sir Edmonbury Godfrey, an upright and able magistrate, 
who had exerted himself in the detection of the Popish plot, and 
sworn Gates to his narrative, was found murdered in a ditch, near 
London, on the 17th of October, 1678. The bloody deed was 
first attributed to the Catholics ; and some few years afterwards, 
(when that interest became paramount under James II.) to the 
Protestants. — Rapin. His funeral was solemnized with great 
•pomp: seventy-two clergymen preceded the corpse, which was 
followed by a thousand persons, most of them of rank and emi- 
nence. Dr. William Lloyd, dean of Bangor, and afterwards 
bishop of Worcester;, preached the sermon. 



[ 113 1 

who was no sooner ashore at Dover, but was 
elapt up, and since brought up to Newgate. 
His crime is said to be, his bringing letters to 
the plotters, and having received an abbey in 
France. 

The Parliament is busie every day in the ex- 
amination of the plott, and are gon so high, that 
they are almost at a stand ; and thence it is, as 
people imagine, that the Parliament begins now 
to goe more slowly and warily than at first, in 
imitation of the Councill. 

Coleman, in his examination, would excuse 
himselfe upon his master, as if he had done 
nothing but by his order. 

You have here in the Gazette the proclamation 
for the fast, which, though it was ordered the 
25th, cam out but yesterday. That against the 
Papists is not come out yett. Your most humble 
and obedient servant, 

D. DE LA PLACE. 



LETTER LXXI. 
From the same to the same, 

London, Nov. 5, 1678. 

Sir, — I know you expect not only the Gazette 
but other small papers alsoe, which may inforrae 
you, and therefore Idoe sende you these enclosed, 
with a few of my own collections. 

I 




'[ 114 3 

What I told you in my last concerning my 
Lord Arundell is true; that the Commons voted 
to proceed against him, by way of impeachment. 

What hath been done towards the disarming 
of Papists, doth not satisfye the Commons, and 
therefore in one of their addresses to the King, 
they desire the Papists may be disarmed. 

In another addresse they desire that the King 
would issue out a proclamation for the discover- 
ing and apprehending these three conspirators, 
viz ; Bedingfield, the Duke's confessor, Simons, 
and Cateway, priests or Jesuites. They desire, 
alsoe, that the King would sett a guard upon 
Whitbread, provincial! of the Jesuits, now sick 
in the house of the Spanish ambassador, and 
on another. 

The roofe of the House of Commons is in 
danger to fall, and therefore they are thinking to 
remove themselves where the King shall appoint. 

Somthiog having been said in the House of 
Lords against the Popish regiment, though it 
was not said which, the Duke of Monmouth 
tooke it for hisj and said he would consent to 
the disbanding of his regiment. 

The King hath at length consented to the 
desire of the Parliament, for raising the trained 
bands, and accordingly some regiments were up 
to-day in those parts. Besidei^i which, severall 
troopes of horse, and companies of foot, of the 
King's forces, were alsoe in armes, and moving 
about Whitehallj St. James, and other places 



[ 115 ] 

thereabouts. A companie of the armed bands 
keeps a guard to-night in pur fields, where there 
are two bonfires. 

In the House of Lords much hath been said 
against the Duke of Yorke, in his presence. 
My Lord Shaftesbury began, and was backt by 
the Lords Halifax, Essex, one more, and the 
Bishop of London. In the House of Commons 
they moved for an addresse to the King, for 
reraoveing the said Duke of Yorke out of his 
presence and counsels ; the further debate 
whereof v^as adjourned till Friday after the 7th. 
of November, perhaps, upon the words of Se- 
cretary Williamson, who told the house that 
they had noe need to trouble themselves about 
that, for the said Duke ^vas resolved to with- 
draw according to the proclamation. 

The Commons havinge desired the King to 
give them Coleman, as to life and death: to life, 
if he would make a further and satisfactory dis- 
covery of the plot, and to death, without reprieve 
or pardon, if he would not : it was granted by 
the King^ under his hand. Which the Commons 
having, they sent three or four of their members 
to examine the said Coleman, to shew him the 
addresse of the House, and the King's grant or 
warrant accordingly, putting before him life or 
death, as aforesaid. To which he answered, 
that he had discovered all that he knew. Som 
say that he would have retracted what he had 
said, concerning^ his master : but he acknow- 

I 2 



[ 116 ] 

iedged that he had received moneys of France 
and Spain, to carry on the Catholic religion's 
interest ; and added, that he was soe unhappy, 
to have discovered so much as would hang* him, 
but could not save his life. A Committee hav- 
ing been appointed to examine Coleman's ser- 
vants, one of them confessed his master had 
more papers which his mistresse had burnt, and 
that he had helped her to doe it.* 

But perhaps I take paines in vain, by telling 
you severall of the votes of the House, which 
may be are sent to ypu more perfectly by some 
other hand ; or some member of your house may 
informe you better. But, however, till you bid 
me hold my hand, I shall endeavour to informe 
you as well I can. As for foreign news, I shall 
only tell you, that Mastrict was surrendered to 
the Dutch by the French the 5th inst. 

* Nothing can exceed the injustice and harshness with which 
the proceedings against the unfortunate people accused of this 
plot were carried on. Mr. Fox ohserves, " witnesses, of such a 
'* character as not to deserve credit in the most trifling cause, 
" upon the most immaterial facts, gave evidence so incredible, or, 
" to speak more properly, so impossible to be true, that it 
*' ought not to have been believed, if it had come from the mouth 
" of Cato: and upon such evidence, from such witnesses, were 
"innocent men condemned to death and executed. Prosecutors, 
'^whether attornies and solicitor-generals, or managers of im- 
^^ peachment, acted with a fury, which, in such circumstances, 
'* might be expected." ** Juries partook naturally enough of the 
^' national ferment ; and judges, whose duty it was to guard them 
" against such impressions, were scandalously active in confirming 
*' them in their prejudices, and inflaming their passions."— P. 24. 



C 117 ] 

The ratification of the peace with Spaine is 
not yett com. With this I end at present, and 
subscribe myself, Sir, your most humble, old, 
and obedient servant, 

D. DE LA PLACE. 



LETTER LXXIT. 
From the same to the same. 

London, Nov. 14, 1678. 

Sir, — Your letter to Capt. Herbert I de- 
livered this morning ; but when I desired him 
to send you an answer, he said he did not know 
whether you deserved one, seeing you doubted 
of the necessity of your being in Parliament ; 
when all lieth at stake. Religion, King, and 
Government, a greater necessity there can be 
never. Cooper hath no letter for you. Pray 
let Mrs. Magdalen know by these, that I have 
been with Mrs. Snoden, who tells me, that on 
Friday last she sent her the thred demanded by 
the shoemaker, who was then to send down 
som shoes. Sir, I make it my business to 
pick up newes for you in coffee-houses, and 
among accointance, and to cull the true from 
the false, which is by far the harder task, for 
nothing comes abroad, though true, but under 
ten or twenty faces or disguises. People's 
spirits being heated, give them not leave to keep 



r 118 ] 

measure; therefore I heg your pardon for a 
mistake or error in my last, where I named 
Mr. Foley, instead of Mr. Powell ; the story is 
true in itselfe, as you see in the Gazette, but the 
man mistaken. 

The notes of Parliament you might have had, 
if 1 had orders for them; therefore I could 
write you but what I could gather here and 
there, and my memory could beare; the notes 
not being every where, and being stopt two or 
three times this Session. However, this I can 
say, that nothing materiall or considerable hath 
escaped me. The newes you will find on th§ 
other side, after I have subscribed myself, Sir, 
your most humble and obedient servant, 

D. DE LA PLACE. 

With the Gazette you will have inclosed a 
printed letter which came out to-day, and 
which I send you more upon another man's 
commendation, than upon my owne judgement, 

Mr. Powell, mentioned in the Gazette, is 
thought to have been trepaned by three or four 
papists, who had promised him to procure him a 
pass from the Duke of York, for a ship, for a sum of 
an £100, which, the morning that he was missing, 
he carried neare Temple Bar, to a cutler's 
house, who is a Papist. Severoll other persons 
are missing since the discovery of the plott ; and 
two men have been fouude this weeke drowned 
in the Thames, not knowne yett, as I heare. 



[ 119 ] 

There lieth at this present time in the Abbey 
church, Westminster, exposed there to be seeiie 
by order of the Parliament, an unknowne dead 
man found about Ratlif, without any visible 
woundes upon his body, unless his neck be 
broken. He seemes to be a lustie man, be- 
tweene fifty and sixty yeares of age, and sup- 
posed by som to be a captain or master of a ship. 

Tuesday, in the House of Commons, a com- 
mittee is appointed to examine Atkins, 

Ordered, that Justice Row do attend the 
House, to give an account of the examination he 
hath taken, concerning' a fire happened in the 
stables of Sir George Wakeman last Sunday 
was seavennight. 

Here you must know that severall fires have 
been of late, and some persons apprehended on 
suspicion. 

Voted, an addresse to the King, that Sir 
Wra. Godolphin may be recalled, to answear an 
accusation of high treason exhibited against 
him ; for he is one of the plotters : and that the 
oathes of allegiance and supremacy be tendered 
to all men in the Inns of Court and Chancery. 

Wednesday was the fast. The Archbishop 
of Canterbury preached before the Lords, and 
Dr. Stillingfleet before the Commons. The ser- 
mons ordered to be printed. 

Whereas I told you in my last, that the Com- 
mons did not like the form of prayers composed 
for the fast, and by addresse desired another: and 



[ 120 1 

anotlier prayer was made and printed ; I should 
liave added, that that did not please neither; so 
that they voted another addresse on Sunday last, 
which produced that bare prayer I sent you with 
the booke. 

Thursday, 14th November, The Commoas 
have ordered to have an account of all the 
justices in the severall counties of England, and 
of all those that have been turned out these 7 
yeares past. 

Mr. Secretary reports that the King hath sent 
his revoking letters for Sir Wm. Godolphin : 
and that he hath ordered commissions to be issued 
out. I suppose 'tis in pursuance of his procla- 
mations against Papists. 

Ordered, an addresse to the King, that the 
oathes of allegiance and supremacy be tendered 
to all the Queene's meniall servants, except Por- 
tugueses, and the Dutchesses of York. 

An addresse to have some of Coleman's let- 
ters printed. 

An addresse for a generall pardon for Bedlow. 
The debate for the Duke of Yorke's removall 
from the King's presence and counsels adjourned 
. to Monday. 

They say that Atkins, Mr. Pepis' servant, is 
a cunning rogue that denieth all things, 



[ I'^l 1 

LETTER LXXIII. 
From the same to the same. 

London, Oct. 25, 1679. 
Sir, — I received yesterday in the morning 
the baskett and the pot sent by my Lady; and 
a little after I received your letters, and Mr. 
Vaiighan's by the post. But I must b egg* your 
pardon at present, if I cannot answer them in 
their particulars. Som impediments this after- 
noone, joyned with my weakness, have hindered 
me ; and forced me to put oif my answer till 
next post, and my thankes to my lady. How- 
ever, all your orders and directions shall be 
observed, God helping. Mrs. Floyd hath had 
her token ; the rest in due time. I had in my 
hands some golden thread for Mrs. Betty, your 
sister ; had paid for it, and intended to send it, 
as this day, by Marck Taylor; bat you seeme 
to countermand it, or else I doe not understand 
your meaning in your letter. Pardon this short 
letter, where 1 owe a long one. Accept of all 
my good will, wkere my strength faileth; and 
take me for, Sir, your most humble and obedient 
servant, 

D. DE LA PLACE. 

'Tis confidently reported, that the Duke of 
York goeth away for Scotland on Munday or 



[ 122 ] 

Tuesday next. Here is publislied my Lord 
Scrogsl: his speech in vindication of himselfe, 
about Sir J, Wakeman : 'tis in two sheets. 



LETTER LXXIV. 

From Lady E. Lyttleton* to Henry Hek- 
BERT, Esq. 

Dear Harry, — I have not writ you this 
fortnight, hoping to have seen you before this; 
but hearing that you were ill, and could not 
come, has made me trouble you with this 
scribble. I suppose you have heard that Colonel 
Sidney f has had notice of his try all a fortnight 

X "^The Lord Chief Justice at that time was Sir Wm. Scroggs; 
" a man more valued for a good readiness in speaking well, 
" than either for learning in his profession, or for any moral 
" virtue. His life had heen indecently scandalous, and his for- 
" tunes were very low/^ — Burnet, ii. 448. 

* It is curious to observe how the court ladies of Charles II.'s 
reign united a deep spirit of political intrigue with the most un- 
exampled levity of manuers. Were we required to point out that 
pelriod in our history, when the character of English women was 
least amiable or dignified, we should, without hesitation, name 
the dissolute period in which the above letter was written. Plays, 
poems, novels, and intrigues, formed the amusements and the 
"business of the sex ; which was without sentiment, without de- 
licacy, without modesty ! 

t Algernon Sydney, one of the noblest victims to the wicked 
counsels of an abandoned and tyrannical Court, was tried and 
condemned for conspiring the death of the King, (in the Rye- 
Jiouse plot,) by a packed jury, and the infamous Judge Jefferies. 
" The proceedings in Sydney's case/^ obseiTes Mr. Fox^ "were 



[ 123 ] 

agoe ; but yesterday he was arraig-ned at the 
King's Beach, the bili being found just before 
he came into the court. He desired to put in a 
special plea against the inditement; but the 
judges told him, as I hear, that if his plea were 
overruled he could not plead after that to the 
inditement again, but they must proceed against 
him as guilty. So that he was forced to plead 
not guilty, and they sent him back to the Tower 
again, and appointed Wednesday next come 
sevenight for his tryall at the Court. The wit- 
nesses produced before the grand jury were 
Lord Howard, who you know what he says, 
and Mr. Shepard, the marchant ; who, they say, 
did swear to his hand : for they say, a book was 
taken of his owne writing, very severely and 
unmannerly reflecting on the government, and 
designed for the earring on this horrid and 
damnable plot. Though I must tell you what 
I hear on the other side, for 'tis said by some, 
that this book was writ severall yeares agoe, and 
is no such thing. The other wittnesse is Sir 
Phillip Loyd, who s^vears, they say, to the sign- 
ing of the papers, &c. 

" still more detestable than in that of Lord Russell. The pro- 
" duction of papers, containing speculative opinions upon govern- 
" ment and liberty, written long before, and, perhaps, never even 
" intended to be published, together with the use made of those 
*' papers, in consideiing them as a substitute for the second wit- 
" ness to the overt act, exhibited such a compound of wicked- 
" ness and nonsense, as is hardly to be paralleled in the history 
*' of judicial tyranny." — Histcjy, 47. He died like a hero on the 
scaffold, Dec. 7, 1683. 



[ 124 J 

I hope ere long to see you in towne, for your 
friends are very angry at you for staying soe 
long. There is a discourse as if those in the 
Tower would be bailed the latter end of the 
terme, though some say otherways, and that 
they'll be indited for misdemeanors, &c. Pray, 
if your affaires bee not very pressing, let mee 
see you as soon as you can. Though I would 
not purchase my owne happynesse by any un- 
easinesse to you ; for 1 doe, and ought, to value 
yours above my owne satisfactione; a greater 
than the enjoying your company cannot bee 
ever in the desire of your most affectionat real I 
friend and servant for ever, 

A. L. 

There has one Speke and Bradden been took 
some time in custody; but they are both re- 
leased upon baile, and an information put in 
against them in the Crown Office about Lord 
Essex's affair, &c. They gave £3000 baile. 



LETTER LXXV. 
From V*** to the same* 

London, 3Tarch 10, 1684. 

Sib,— The morrow after the interment of the 
late King,* the King went publickly with the 

» Charles II. 



C 125 ] 

Queen to masse at her chapell at Whitehall, and 
hath ever since been constant in his houres ot 
devotion there, or att the chappell of St. James's. 

The Princesse Annef received the sacrament 
after the manner of the Church of England, in 
the greate chappell at Whitehall, the first of this 
month ; the service and sermons being conti- 
nued there as in the late King's time. 

The King is very iatent on his businesse, 
seldom or never absent from council ; takes no 
diversion but hunting, which he does for health, 
once a week> on Mundayes, on Puttney Heath, 
or other places not farr distant. Soon after his 
brother's death, he forbid Mrs. SedleyJ the 
court ; and has since declared, he will reforme 
the court from swearing, drinking, and wenching. 

The last week the high constable of this hundred 
had orders to disperse the masquerade meetings 
at Meggs', and gave Meggs notice of the order, 
and desired she would att least farbeare the en- 
tertainment there for some time : this not being 
done, the constable attended as ordered, and 
upon oifer made to apprehend or unmask some 
in vizards there, a gentleman concerned sent to 
an officer at Somerset House, and prayed his as- 

t Afterwards Queen Anne. 

X Catherine Sedley, daughter of Sir Charles Sedtey, James's 
mistress before he ascended the throne, and afterwards created 
by him Countess of Dorchester. When he entirely forsook her, 
he sent her word either to retire into France, or to have her pen- 
sion of £4000 a year withdrawn.— JKere*&y, 131. 



[ 12G ] 

sistance with some miisquetteers. The officer 
came; a miisqiiett or two were discharged, with- 
out other harme than cleaving a constable's staff. 
The company being dispersed, the constable 
gave an account of the passages, and had a se- 
cond order to disperse them on Fryday, and 
came prepared for the purpose, attended with a 
regiment of bedles. But noe company appear- 
ing at the place, the officer of the guard since 
received a severe check, and, 'tis said, is in 
danger of being cashiered. 

Sunday morning last the King, going to 
masse, told his attendants, he had been informed 
that since his declaring against the disorders of 
the family, som had had the impudence to ap- 
peare drunke in the Queen's prei^ence, ('tis 
thought he reflected on the Duke of A. ;) but 
advised them at their peril to observe his orders, 
"which he would see obeyed. 

Amongst others who have kist the King's 
hand. Justice Newman hath done it twice. Att 
his second doing itt, he had the fortune. to fall. 
The King laughed heartily, and saide to the 
attendants, " one of their justices was fallen." 
This, from Justice Newman; and that he is not 
without hopes of being Member for Westminster. 

The King seemes much averse against the 
French, or at least not to putt that value on them 
as his brother did. The Count de Lorges, 
brother to the Earl of Feversham, and a mar- 
shall of France, who came hither to condole^^ 



[ J27 ] 

&c. and congratulate, &c. hath been, to the 
least punctilio, received by the King*, as the 
Lord Churchill^was by the French king ; which, 
'tis said, is a mortification to the Count, &c. 
who expected more caresses than he mett with. 

Most of the Compaeyes of Merchants (parti- 
cularly the East-India, Turkey, and African 
Compj^nyes) having by their addresses sub- 
mitted to pay customes, as in the late King's 
time,* the private merchants gradually comply ed, 
till the last week, when a shipp arrived in the 
Thames from the Streights, whose goods being 
consigned to Mr. Maynard by commission, (that 
is as factors or agents for the owners,) with this 
particular intimation by letter, that the owners 
understood the King was dead, and expected 
from him an account of the goods, cmtome free^ 
if they arrived safe in port before a grant by 
Parliament of the customes to the new King* 
Maynard hath absolutely refused to pay custome 

* James, on coming to the throne, issued a proclamation for 
the levying, upon his sole authority, the customs, and other 
duties, which had constituted part of the late King's revenue ; 
but to which, the Act granting these having expired with the 
Prince, James was not legally entitled. To this stretch of au- 
thority Mr. Fox observes that no resistance was made i ** nor," 
says he, " did the example of Hampden, which half a century 
" before had been so successful, and rendered that patriot's 
" name so illustrious, tempt any one to emulate his fame.'* -^Historif . 
91. It is clear, however, from the above letter, that one British 
merchant was bold enough to stand forward and resist the un- 
constitutional claim of James, and that his noble example was 
followed by others. 



[ 128 } . 

for them, and others have since followed his 
example. 

The town is double guarded : att least all the 
gunnes mounted, new pallisadoes, &c. putt up 
in places convenient. 

The late mortality in the Horse Guardes hath 
occasioned their remove, on Sunday morning 
last, from their usuall station to the Mewes. So 
many of them have lately died, that some talk 
the distemper among them is pestilentiall ; but 
I hope it will appeare an effect of their extra- 
ordinary debauchery e on the late occasion, 
which made them have recourse oftener than 
ordinarye to the brandy shoppes and tavernes, to 
supply their spirits. There's more than ordi- 
narye watching and exercise. 

On Saturday was sevennight, the Chief Justice 
committed Mr. Ranter to the King's Bench, for 
a book of his, called ** Annotations on the New 
" Testament :" Mr. Ranter is since bayled. 
There are warrants out against the printers. 
One of them was taken yesterday, and hath put 
in bayle to appere next terme. The circum- 
stances and consequences are too long for this 
paper. 

The late King left in his closett a hundred 
thousand pounds at least, in guinneys and old 
gold. The King hath declared he lived upon 
sixty thousand pounds per annum in his brother's 
time, and expects Prince George shall live 
within that compasse ; and declares much 



L 129 1 

ao^aiiist pvofiiseness, &c. ; and among other 
thinges against daeiling; and sayes, he knowes 
a man hath fought nine diiells, and is a very 
coward, having been manifestly knovi^ne such 
in an engagement att sea. 

Some of our eminent preachers, who, since 
the late King's death, have been zealous against 
Popery, in their expressions in the pulpitt, have 
been lately directed to apply their sermons to 
preach their flockes into obedience of Gob and 
the King, and forbeare matters of controversy, &c. 

An intimation was lately sent to Mr. E, that 
it would be well if he would not oppose Sir 
Adam Brown in the election for Surry, The 
answer returned was, that he would leave the 
country as he found it. But I believe you 
have a former account of this. 

There is now noe certaine account of matters 
from Scotland, the poste being in sure hands, 
and all things kept extremely close from that 
side. 'Tis said (and not without ground) there 
are 10 or 12 companyes shipped away for Ber^ 
wick, upon occasion of some disorders beyond 
that place. And 'tis said, the E. of A. and 
others are in those parts. 

The election for Bedford is over ; a friend of 
yours will, in a short time, give you personally 
a better account of these and other matters 
than I can. 

I hope you have received mine by Philips, 
The most indirect and unusual meanes are now 

K 



[ 130 ] 

made for election, the more reason there is to 
siispectethe designe ; and the more earnestlye 
do I want you a member, to appeare like your- 
selfe, when others know not how, or dare not act 
honestly. But I cannot advise you to engage 
for any election, without as great a certainty of 
sucx:'esse (to be returned elected) as such a 
matter is capable of, I knowe you know the 
reason* 

V. 

LETTER LXXVI. 

From Ann Herbert* io the same, 

1684. 

I am very glad to heare you are in good 

health, and I received your letter just now; and 

the child is well, I thank God, and so are all 

heare. As for my brother's things and InwelFs, 

I will give you the best account I can ; but if I 

was at London, I could give a better account of 

them then I cud now, for Mrs. Cooper knows 

what the ju wells are, and how many thare is 

of them, for I could aske her ; and now she 

may be of my sister's side, ^y sister has a 

parlle necklace of wone rowe, and a diment 

ring, with seven diments in it, and a gould 

wach of my brother's; and she has a table and 

stands, and a little boxe and an erareld hooke 

for a lute of his, all the same inlade, which 

stude in his chamber, and that thaye say he 

* " Anne, daughter and coheir of — Ramsey, esq; one of th© 
" aldermen of the city of London," — Col. Peer. Supple, v. i. 271. 



[ 131 ] 

gave her. My ante Col well has a diment rin^e 
with one stone, and a paiie necklace with two 
rowes, and a disnent locket, that is all I know 
of; but if I was with you, I might know more 
of her. I thought you wood not adone it 
without mee. I dont know what thing's els she 
has of my brother's, for I beleave he had more 
then I know of. I had a letter from my maide 
Elizabeth Roberts, which I owe five pounds to 
her, and three poun six shillens for washing of 
pinte ; and yoii have the note of it, for I left it 
with you when I came out of London. I 
thought you had paid her. Pray send for her, 
and paye her; and git her to aske her ante about 
my brother's things, and what juweTls he had. 
The churchwardens comes for a levey for the 
church, but I wont pay them tel I sent you 
word of it, to know if I shall pay them or no. 
It comes to wone pound seven shillens, for thaye 
are agoing out of the ofes. Pray send me word 
if I shall pay them or not by the next poste. 
So I conclud rite in hast, the post stase, your 
loveing wife, 

ANN HERRBET. 

LETTER LXXVTI. 
From Miss M. Offley to the same, 

1684.* 
Since I wrote last 1 have been so pensive and 
melanehoiy for our great national loss*, that I 
* Charles II. died 6th Feb, 1684, 
K2 



[ 132 ] 

cou'd not for the present esteame any worldly 
felisity or sattisfaction, wliich also made in ee for 
a time abandon the company of my best friends, 
and neglect your commands in making* a speedy 
rehearsal! of your letter to my L. K.* who sym- 
pathized with mee in our just g-riefs for the loss 
of odr King, whose memory will be ever precious 
to us, tho' wee have a faire prospect of many 
happy days from the promises of his successor, 
which have, I suppose, before now reached you. 
Yesterday I was willing to take some refresh- 
ment, and so L, K. and myselfe went to Hyde 
park, where we had good aire and but a little 
company," which w^e left, with our coach, and 
took a walk by ourselfes to talk seriously; and 
then I produced your letter, which shee read, and 
smiling, said, you too must come to prayers 
twice a day now, ^ for religion and morality 
wou'd be all the fashion, Mrs. Sedley being 
forbid the Court, and banished with that wor- 
shipfull vice which has been prevailing all the 
while. rU assure you wee dull, nervous women 
are altogether in request now; and my ghostly 
father, Dr. Kent, (the great promoter., of all 
moral virtue and christian graces,) the greatest 

* Probably " loving kinswoman/' 
ft S^- Tlionias Kenn, made bishop of Bath and Wells at the 
ooiiclusion of Charles II.'s reign. A most estimable prelate, 
^ho attended Charles II. on his death-bed, and did the utmost 
to awaken his conscience. He was one of the seven deposed 
bishops. He lived after his deprivation with his friend Lord 
Weymouth, at Longleat, till his c^eath, which happened 19tli 
March, 1710—11. 



r 133 ] 

court favourite, tho hee has boldly asserted the 
truth and verity of the principles of theC* of 
England. Thus you see the powerfiill effects of 
prayers and good works. My L. K.'s have been 
heard ; her aims and supplycations, amongst 
others, have prevailed for peace and happiness, 
even when it was least expected ; and this makes 
mee hope youMl bee a perfect convert in a short 
time. I am sure you'l have a true sence before 
you come to dye ; and can reason and distin- 
guish nicely ; all which makes us desire your 
company in town, where the innocent and pro- 
fitable enjoyments wee had the last winter may 
be repeated, with much approbation and sattis- 
faction, to my L. K. and, Sir, your most humble 
servant, 

Feb. 17. M. OFFLEY. 

You must forgive the blotts, 

LETTER LXXVin. 
From the same to the same. 

Nov. 14ih, 

SiK, — This day 1 received your obliging letter, 
which most justly speaks the person that writ 
it; for you have given mee the best testimony 
of your judgment and friendship imaginable, 
and have produced much more rational argu- 
* Query, Commons, 



[ 134 ] 

ments, than any of my otber relations j altlio' 
they all know the business; that is, my father 
and mother, and your sister hath bt^en made 
acquainted with it by Mrs. J. Car, who was an 
actor in this affair; but truly I depended upon 
your answer, and have heithertp g^iven no en- 
couragement to the gentleman to proceed; and 
now, tho hee has your vote, I am not his friend ; 
but I think you almost sacred, and cannot much 
disaprove of your advice. I believe I told you of 
his estate, as it was then represented tomee, with* 
out a clause which has been put in since it seems; 
his eldest brother is alive, and the scoole master is 
not to have it till his death, which you know 
is very uncertain ; but hee is allmost as fat as 
my Co George was. This man's reall incom 
is only six hundred a yeare by his place, and 
three hundred pound of his own : this he has 
in present possession; but I cannot prevaile 
with myself to accept of him and his employ- 
ment. Hee is, they say, learned and very 
ingenious; but if I were any judge, I can give 
you no account of his understanding, for I 
never admitted him lo speak ten words to mee. 
I wish I could discourse this intrigue and som 
other matters with you, and then I would 
express myself more significantly, and endeavour 
to make you on my side. My father and mother, 
by Mrs. H.'s instigation, are much for this man, 
but I am sure I shall never adher to them ; and 
yet |y our letter has brought the business into som 



[ 135 ] 

dispute in my own thoughts, and the circum- 
stance of debauchery is very considerable. 
Upon my life, Sir, I could have a gaudy atheist" 
with a very good estate; but then I consider the 
neglects of such a creature, after being maryed 
a little while, would be as bad as this man's em- 
ployment : and on the other side, I am a slave to 
the world, and start when I think people would 
say, '^ Mrs. O. has maryed a scoole master.'* 
Pray, Sir, forgive this confidence, and excuse 
these foolish declarations, which may justly 
lessen your good opinion of mee ; but I hope 
you will consider that I am much concerned, 
and cannot make my fancy comply with my 
friends; fori protest 'tis a great trouble to mee, 
that I cannot think this match for my credit 
and interest. Methinks the want of his bro- 
ther's estate, and his own employment, puts it 
out of all disput; and I hope you will be of my 
opinion, when you understand the circumstance. 
If I were really possessed, that it would be for 
the honour and happiness of my familly to marry 
this man, I would dispense with my own pre- 
judice against him; but for my part, I think if I 
marry the scoole-master, my sister Tetty must 
take up with the usher, and so they must all 
descend gradually till poore Kate corns to the 
Quorister; for its certaine it can never be for 
their advantage to see me meanly maryed. I 
have drawn out this letter to the length of a 
bill in chancery, and could never expect vour 



r 136 ] 

pardon, but that I have always found you the 
most sincere and faithful friend in the world to, 
Sir, your most obliged and humble servant, 

M. OFFLEY. 
Give me but one word, whether the uncertainty 
of his brother's estate dosnot alter your opinion, 
and burn this letter, for this business is a secret 
to every one but yourself and those 1 have men- 
tioned. I would not be so importunate and bold 
in troubling you with this concern, but I know 
you are the best judg what the world would 
think of such a match ; and since 1 am not in 
love with the man, I ought to regard the world. 



LETTER LXXIX. 

From Lady Lyttleton ^o Henky 
Herbert, Esq. 

I have been so ill to-night, that I am but just 
able to tell you I thought I should have heard 
oftener from you; but doe what is most conve- 
niante, and Avhat best pleases you ; spend but 
your time more m the consideration of the 
empty nes of this world, and the unspeakeable 
satisfackshon it will be at last to get to heaven, 
and I will be satisfied with any thing ; for your 
well-being heareafter is what I most desier. 

I sometimes fancy, if could I se whom I 
>yould, I should he better 3 but I correckt my^? 



[ 137 ] 

«elf for sutch a thought, and know it is my duty 
to be satisfied with the will of God, and pray 
be you loving" where you are bound in duty forst. 
The next post I will writ more in anser to your 
letter^ but now am able to writ no more. 
Mrs, Barker will writ to you next post. 



I^ETTER LXXX. 
From Lady Lyttleton to the same, 

London, Tuesday night. 

Lady Dorset can live but few days; Lord 

Kadnall very ill; Lord Carlisle dead ; 

young' Lady Ossere extremely ill, and with 
child in Ireland ; old Lady Ossere very ill^ 
Lady Hochester extremely ill ; Lady Ann 
Spencer to have the best match in Scotland, 
but I have forgot his name. Macarte hath 
Lord Arran's regiment in Ireland* Sure you 
left nobody here; your consern was great for —, 
since the sight of a child made all trouble depart 
from your hart; happy cretur; blesse your 
stars, you never knew what love was yett. 
Ingage your friend at Whithall to wright you 
all the newse of this place; she shall have m.y 
assistance, because I shall venture no more till 
I have converst with you, for more reasons than 
the hassard of my letters. Lady Dorset hath 
given Mr. Powell all her personall estate, Lord 
Mackeifeld hath got the try all with Selden. 



[ 138 ] 

The Doge of Genoa is, with three or fore of 
the Senate, on his way to Parres, to aske his 
most Christian Maiesty's pardon for theare 
ofences. Mrs. Villers, the mayde of honour, is 
inaryed to a man of fore hundred pounds a 
yeare, Farewell. 



LETTER LXXXI. 

From Sir William Boughton, to Henry 
Herbert,* Esq, 

I have sent down my commands some time 
since, for another to receive my thirds at Nor^ 

* A dispute concerning family property, the fruitful source of 
family quarrels, was the occasion of this misunderstanding. 
The result is unknown; though we may be certain it was not a 
fatal one. Mr. Herbert had much fighting blood- in his veins. 
His uncle, the notable Lord of Cherbury, had signalized himself 
by numerous single combats ; and his father, as Lord Cherbury 
informs us, " had given several proofs of his courage in duels." 
Life, p. 13. One conspicuous feature in the manners of high life in 
the seventeenth century was a sort of rage for duelling. No gentle ] 
man's character for gallantry or fashion could be established, unless 
he had killed his man in single combat. The more he had been 
distinguished by these deeds of blood, the more respectable 
was he in the circles of the gay, and the more acceptable to, and 
successful with, the ladies. Lord Cherbury 's life aflbrds some 
very entertaining illustrations of this fact; and the interesting 
account in the Guardian (Nos. 129, 133) of the duel between Sir 
Edward Sackville (afterwards Earl of Dorset) and Lord Bruce, 
is a melancholy instance of the slight causes in which these 
" affairs of honour" originated, and the sad consequences in 
which they terminated. It is a pleasing proof of our general im- 
provement in manners, and advance in reason, humanity, and 
eivilization, that duels are now infinitely less frequent than they 



r 1S9 3 

liam : as to wliat you and Gy 11 have done 
tocrether, I shall thinke fit to have satisfaction. 
You know very well what I have had for this 
foor or five years, which, since I expect an 
account from yon only, my consent was never 
to imploy your acquaintance 3 and what loss 
hath been through you, I hope chancery will 
reieive. Sir, your servant, 

MarchUS, — 8S. W. BOUGHTON. 

These for Henry Herbert, esqj at the Lady Herbert's house, 
Leicester-fields. 



LETTER LXXXII. 
From Henry Herbert, to Sir William 

BoUGHTON. 

Leicester Fields, March 29, —83. 

Since you are not sensible of civilities, you 
shall be troubled with no more from me ; but, 
I v/ill treate you as you deserve : and now I tell 
you what I've already done was for your Lady's 
sake. More then one account you and your 
ag'ent Tilinian have had, of what I received of 
Gill; but I've not had any account of from you, 
of what you've received, which I expect, be 

'^-ere 150 years ago; and that they only occur among characters, 
not remarkable for condition, refinement, sense, or respectability. 
The quarrel referred to in this correspondence seems to have 
been some time in maturing. It began in 1688, and came to an 
issue in 1692. 



[ wo J 

assured I shall answer you in cliaucery, or any 
where else, upon the lest summons, v/ho write 
my name, 

HENRY HERBERT. 



LETTER LXXXIIT. 

From Sir Wjlliam Boughton to Henry 
Herbert, Esq. 

I dine at horn e to-day; and from thence I 
adjourn to the Sun Tavern, in Holborn, until 
3 o'clock, or thereabouts : from thence I shall 
walke into the city ; if you have any thing to 
say unto me, I hope I shall bee able to give you 
an answer. 

10th April, 1692. W. BOUGHTON*. 

LETTER LXXXIV. 

From the same to the same, 

I doe desire to know what you mean by your 
rudeness to my servant this morning" ; such 
breeding I am not acquainted with. I know not 
of incivility towards you. However, Sir, I 
expect your answer forthwith. 
April Wth, 1692. W. BOUGHTON. 

* The answer to this note was a verbal one; laconic, but very 
gross. It is copied, in Mr. Herbert's hand, at the bottom of Sir 
William's note. 



[ 141 1 
LETTER LXXXV. 
From Henry Herbert to SirWu. Boughton. 

In return to your letter by the penny post, I 
send you one by a porter, to tell you that about 
4 o'clock this afternoon, I shall be behind 
Southampton house, in Red Lyon Fields, where 
I will give you an answ^er. 

H. HERBERT. 

LETTER LXXXVr. 

From Lord Bellamont* ^o Henry 
Herbert, Esq. 

Worcester, 3Iarch 10, — 89. 
Dear CouNRYMAN,~The complement I, 
as well as the rest of the gentlemen of the coun- 
try, paid to our High Sheriff last Saturday, in 
attending him to meet the Judge out of town, 
hindered me from acquainting you, by that day's 
post, that on Thursday last. Sir Jo. Packington, 
Mr. Philipp Foley, and I, w^ent to the pole for 
the election at Droitwich. I carried it so 
cleverly, that there was but one vote against me; 
and next to me, Mr. P. Foley had the most votes^ 
But Sir John tendered several votes v/hich could 
be allowed by the bailiff to be qualified, soe 

* Richard Coote, Lord Coloony, and Eayl of Bellamont, in 
the kingdom ©f Ireland, married Catherine the only child and 
heir of Bridges Nanfan, lord of the manor of Birts-Morton, 
Worcestershire. Lord Bellamont was made governor of New 
York; where he died, 5th March, 1700. 



i 142 ] 

that he intends to petition a cdnimilted "of 
elections when the Parliament sits. Tom Foley 
crossing Sir John after this manner, at Wych, 
and setting np his brother Phillip, has provoked 
Sir John to strike in for the county, and I am 
very confident Sir Francis Wirmington will be 
thrown out. I resolve to vote for Pack and 
Foley, and make ail the interest I can for them. 
If Win. and the others goe thro' with the pole, 
I vA\[ not excuse 'em under £2000 a man. Sir 
Edward Harley is likely to have a hard contest 
and a doubtful one in Herefordshire. The 
Tories are hotter here than ever; and, I doubt 
not there will be some broken heads at the county 
pole, which was adjourned from last Wednesday 
to Thursday next. My cousen Bromley is your 
servant, has received your letter, and will 
answer it the next post, and provide you the 
Lampreys. I am yours, aiFectionately, 

BELLAMONT. 

For Henry Herbert, esq; at the Lady Herbert's house, in 
Leicester Fields, London. 

LETTER LXXXVir. 
From Lord Coote to Henry Herbert, Esq, 

London^ October 3d, — 89. 
Dear Neighbour,— I send you my news- 
letter*, that you might have news by wholesale. 
Yesterday a race w^as run between my Lord 
♦ The newspapers were^t this time, and for many years after- 
wards, printed in the form of letters, beginning with " Sir," and 



[ 14* ] 

Devonshire and my Lord of Monmouth at New- 
market, but the latter won. On Saturday next 
will be run the match between my Lord of 
Monmouth and Sir R. Gwin.J I am told the 
Duke of Somerselt (who is at Newmarkett) has 
invited the King" to visit Cambridge, of which 
university the Duke is chancellor. The King- 
has alsoe promised my Lord North and Gray to 
dine with him at his house ; soe that I hope his 
Majestic, by degrees, will become a true 
Englishman. You know the humour of our 
nation is to be frank and affable, and not a little 
hospitable ; and noe doubt the King, by eating 
and drinking with his people, and shewing him-^ 
selfe often to them, will (together with his other 
excellent qualities) winn the hearts and souls of 
them. Let me know when I may expect to 
see you in town. I am, with all my heart, 
dear neighbour, your most affectionate humble 
servant, 

COOTE. 

ending "your humble serv^ant/^ &c. Tliey were charged each 
©ne farthing, and known by the name of the Farthing Post. 

X Sir Rowland Gwynne was treasurer of the chamber to King 
William and Queen Mary ; but removed from his office for some 
conversation which had fallen from him, reflecting upon Lord 
Sydney^s conduct in Ireland. He was examined before the 
Privy Councill on this matter ; and the last number in the Ap- 
pendix contains a particular account of what passed at that 
examination. Tindal, in his continuation of Rapin, vol. iii, 
p. 194, has given some letters from Mr. Warre to Sir Wm. Duttozj 
Colt, envoy extraordinary at Hanover, with an outline of what 
passed at the Council. The document in the Appendix, however, 
Tf hich was a private communication to Lord Herbert, relates all 
the conversation that occurred there. 



[ 144 1 

LETTER LXXXVlir. 

From Mr Do^vdesweli.* to the same. 

Jidy 29, 1690. 
I had writt to you tbe last week, bat that I 
was soe employed in mustering, and making 
preparations for it, that I was forced to neglect 
all other concerns ; besides that I had nothing 
to tell you, but that we received a letter from the 
counsel!^ directed to my Lord Shrewsbury, audi 
in his absence, to his deputy lieutenants, re- 
quireing us to seize the horses of all papists and 
disaffected persons, and requiringe my Lord to 
appoint three deputy lieutenants to judge of 
them ; and accordingly either to returne them 
to their owners, or to dispose of them, as they 
should judge morl for theyr Majesties service, 
and to reward and encourage the seizing of 
them. In observance of the order, we issued out 
our orders to the respective captains and lieu- 
tenants of each foot company, requiringe them 
to make diligent search in the houses of all 
papists and disaffected persons, within thelimitts 
of their respective companyes, and to seize the 
horses and arms of all such persons ; and to 
summon all such persons to appeare before us 
on the 28tli instant, it being yesterday, and the 

* Of Pull-court, Worcestershire ; ancestor of the Right Hon. 
William Dowdeswell, Chancellor of the Exchequer in tlie years 
1765 and 1766. On the moriiiment of the latter, in Bushley 
chmch, Worcestershire, is a tong epitaph^ composed by Edmund 
Burke. 



[ 145 ] 

time to which our sessions was adjourned; att 
which time the several lieutenants made a re- 
turne of theyr warrants, by delivermg' in a list 
of what persons each lieutenant had summoned, 
and by causing* to be brought iri what horses 
they foand. The chief of the persons who ap- 
peared were Mr. Russell, Mr. Bartlett, Mr. 
Abbington, Mr. Pay, Mr. Darling-, and Mr* 
Hanford^ to all which we tendered the new 
oaths and the test; which being refused by them 
all, we committed Mr. Hanford, upon the ac- 
count of his disrespectfull behaviour before us, 
to the common gaol. The rest, with Mr. 
Battlett's servant, we confined to the Talbot in 
Sedbury, and sett a file of rausqueteers upon 
them for a guard. There allsoe appeared above 
halfe a score of inferior persons, who, for the- 
generality, were tenants, and they refusing the 
oaths and test, we thought fitt to putt them 
allsoe under confinement ; but I expect that 
those justices who live in Worcestershire will 
release them this day, they being- poor tenants, 
and truly 1 judge not dangerous, since the chiefe 
of the party are secured* There were many 
more summoned, who neglected to appeare ; the 
ftiost eminent of which were, Sir Wra. Stych, a 
knight, and the person who is at Mr. Bartlett's, 
a;id the Lord Fairfax, who is at my Lady Yeates, 
and Mr. Addis; and for those three w^e dispatched 
two parties of horse yesterday, the one under the 
command of Mr. Bromley's lieutenant, the 

3- 



[ 146 ] . 

other under his cornettj to seize them ; and as 
to the rest, we have issued out warrants to all 
constables to apprehend them, and bring* them 
before us on Tuesday next. The horses which 
were seized, seemed generally to be very meane 
cart-horses, and under the value of 51. a piece -^^ 
only there was seized at Mr. Bartlett's a saddle- 
nag', worth about six pounds, about fourteen 
hands and an inch higfh. He stands fire verv 
well, and the horse Mr. Bromley, Mr. Lechmere, 
and my self e here, judged to be forfeited, (not- 
withstanding we have received noe authority 
from my Lord Shrewsbury to appoint us to be 
the three deputy lieutenants to judge in the case.) 
In all the search we have made, we have not 
found any armes at all. We have had here a 
greate alarm upon the account of the landing of 
the French ; which, in my opinion, struck noe 
great terror amongst us; the generality of people 
being very resolute to make a vigorous op« 
position. I forgott to mention to you, that the 
oathes being tendered to the curate of Upton- 
upon-Seaverne, and he refusing them, we have 
committed him to the gaol. I beg that you will 
give us your accustomed favorable acceptance, 
it proceeding from an earnest desire to approve 
myselfe your most faithfull, humble servant, 

RIC. DOWDESWELL. 



t 147 3 

LETTER LXXXIX. 
From Henry Herbert, Esq; to King 

WlLMAM III.* 

Juhj tkelSth,—9l, 

Sere, — If I was not satisfied in myself of an 
entire resolution to serve your Majesty m the 
face of all kinds of discouragements, I would not 
presume to write, especially since I fear I've 
laboured under some misrepresentations to your 
Majesty. But your Majesty, who entertains 
the courage of Alexander, and the wisdom of 
Solomon, must be the best judge of all actions; 
and 'tis favour enough for me, if you are pleased 
to remember any thing don by me, either in 
Holland or England. Upon that presumption 
I'me encouraged to ask of your Majesty the 
auditorship of Wales, the place of Col. Herbert, 

* Henry Herbert had some claim on William's gratitude, as 
he had early discovered the evil politics of James II. and steadily 
opposed them; and crossed over into Holland in 1688, to offer 
his semce to the Prinqe of Orange, in the redemption of his 
country from popery and arbitrary government. As a reward 
for these proofs of attachment, William made Mr. Herbert, suc- 
cessively, a Baron of the Realm in 1694; and Gustos Rotulorum 
for the county of Brecon in 1695. And Queen Anne made him 
one of the Lords Commissioners of Trade and the Plantations 
in 1705. He was distinguished for his affability, politeness, and 
^eat natural abilities, which he liad much cultivated and im- 
proved by study. He died on the 22d Jan. 1708-r-9, leaving, by 
Anne his wife, daughter and co-heir of — • Ramsay, esq; one of 
the aldermen of the city of London, (who survived him, and 
died 24th April, 1716,) Henry, his onjy son and heiT,-^ColUiu'e 
Peerage, Supplement, vol, i, 272. 

L 2 



[ 148 3 

\vlio was kilfd in the late Irish eng-a^ement, &c. 
In his absence he left his power of officiating 
with me, and I officiated here for him, so that 
I'me the better prepared to serve your Majesty 
in that place. But I submit this, as IVe don 
former requests, to your Majesty's pleasure, 
begging', with all humility, leave to subscribe 
myself, great Sire, your dutifall subject, 

Il» H£iIiSEliT« 

lictter to the Kin^* 

LETTER XC. 

From Godwin Atwood to H. 
Herbert, Esq, 

Worcester, Jan. 22d, 1693. 
Honored Captain, — Not longe since 1 
sent you a letter about the indisposition of 
Franck Hales, whoe is now somewhat better, 
though thought never fitt for any military affaire; 
1 am now desired by honest JohnWakeman, 
one of your worship's souldiers, that you 
would please, per next, to send him an order for 
Mr. Joseph Pooller, of Bewdly, Mr. Richard 
ClarCji of the same place, Mr. John Hancocks, 
of Harecourt, and Mr. William Vernon, of 
Astwood, to severally pay to Mr. Wakeman, as 
they stand charged h^ the lieutenants: this is 
most humbly requested, by reason that Mr. 
justice Foley hath forbid Pooller piaying to 
Wakeman, untill he could shew your order-^^ 
His most devoted service ^to little Master, 



[ 149 ] 

with his and my dutifull regards to your worship, 
wishing you a long and prosperous life. I hum- 
bly subscribe myself, honoured Sir, your most 
obedient and faithfuU servant, 

G. ATWOOD. 
* There was noe meeting of the deputy lieute- 
nants this sessions, to the great prejudice of your 
troop. 

The mobb were up on Saturday last, and 
seized a bardge laded with bacon and Cheshire 
great cheese, as alsoe corne, &c. to a great value. 
They are growne very resolute, and of ill conse- 
quence, if not timely suppressed. Alderman 
Haynes, I am informed, gave the Raparees great 
encouragement therein. Parson Roberts, a non- 
conformist here, w^as called or sent for to a servant 
maid that lay sick, she desireing that he would 
both pray with her, and give her alsoe the 
sacrament. He desired all the people to with- 
draw, and then he asked severall questions, 
particularly how she would receave the same; 
she answeared, according to the Church of 
England, as now established. He tould her she 
was in th^ wrong, and that his church was th^ 
right, though now under a cloud ; and except 
she would receave it after his way, he would 
not administer jt to her. Some persons atten- 
tive at the doore breake in upon him, and re- 
buked, and desired him to pray by her, which he 
refused, and soe departed; but Roberts and ano- 
ther brother rogue went, with oneof their brethren^ 



[ 150 ] 

to be interred in the countrey, and there they 
tooke the Common Prayer Booke oute of the 
Minister's hand of the parish, and buried the 
Jacobite as they thought iitt. Severall not well 
affected to our g-lorious government are gone up 
to London to gett commissions; a certificate for 
them from hence would, I conceive, be proper. 
God preserve K. W. and his Queen. 

Wakeman prayes you to direct yours to hi m 
in Bewdley as soon as your great affaires will 
permitt, otherwise Mr. Foley will get the money 
of Pooller. 

For my honoured captain, Henry Herbert, esq; one of the 
Members of the Honourable House of Commons, West- 
minster, London. 

LETTER XCI. 

From Lord Herbert to the Bailiff, S^'c, 

of Bewdley. 

Leicester Fields,^ May 3, — 94. 
Mr. Bayliff and Gentlemen. — I thoug-ht 
it not proper to signify the favour their Ma- 
jestys have been pleased to bestowe on me, till 
my grant of Barony passed the great seal. This 
day it passed, and this day I write to you, gen- 
tlemen of the corporation of Bewdley, to give 
you the certain information of it, that you may 
use such measures on a new choice of a burgesse 
to serve you in Parliament, as may conduce to 
the public good, and your corporation's in par- 
ticular. I do assure you my care and study wer^ 



t 151 ] 

to preserve both; and I do believe you, gentle- 
men of the corporation of Be wdley, entertained 
such thoughts, because you repeated your choice 
of me for your burgesse since this happy revolu- 
tion, and it was unanimous. I am very sensi- 
ble of those reall kindnesses to me, for which, 
though passed, I give you thankes. I design 
still to be your neighbour, and I design alwayes 
to be a well-wisher to the corporation of Bewd- 
ley. Pray take my kindest remembrance 
amongst you, and continue to esteem me, as I 
am, Mr. BayhfFe and Gentlemen, your reall friend, 

HERBERT. 



LETTER XCIT. 
From Lady Inchequin* to Lord Herbert. 

Chester, June 26th, — 95. 

According to promise, and a thousand obliga- 
tions to my Lord Herbert, I must let you know 
that the first essay, your setting mee out, has 
proved most prosperous ; a very pleasing jour- 

* Elizabeth Brydges, second daughter of George Lord Chan- 
dos. She married, first, Edward third Lord Herbert of Cherbury ; 
secondly, the Earl of Inchiqueen, of the kingdom of Ireland ; 
and thirdly, Charles Lord Howard, of Escrick. In" the second 
*' series of Epistolatory Curiosities" will be found some letters 
from this lady, respecting her application for separation from her 
third husband, Lord Howard, She died in February 1717— -8, 
'^Callins's Peei'age, vol, i. p. 497. 



[ 152 ] 

ney; you know my company ; and Mr. Johnson's 
care of mee to divert mee, is very agreeable. 
On Smiday night wee came to this place ; yester- 
day we were invited, and dined, at Sir T. 
Grosvenor*s, a charming place; and met here, 
accidentally, some of my Welch acquaintance, 
whom 1 -me glad to see, the grand fay re being now. 
To-day we designed to see Rock-Savage, Lord 
Hivers's, but that there is some Tangier acquain- 
tance that irvite our Earie and I to dine off 
fresh salmon. Wee have many pleasure adven- 
tures, but our want is a fayre wind, wee having 
a man of warr at Highlake, where wee goe 
to-morrow morning, in order to take shipping. 
What was left with you, I 'me sure of your care 
of ; and as to the little picture, I beg Mrs. 
Swan may goe about copying; but the dress, a 
widdow's; and please to give her your directions. 
I beg you'l please to hasten me a line, and direct 
it for our Earle in Dublin ; a cross at the bottom 
of your superscription will distinguish it, and 
let me know what news of the lady departed 
from her lodging^ Whitehall, 'Twou'd he a 
great obligation^ if you'd plea§e to see Mr. 
West, of Buckingham-court, to know what 
news, and spurr him on for your friends redemp- 
tion from the wickedness of our enemyes, which 
God deliver. Believe my great impatience to 
heare from you, who goe off from High Lake 
the first fayre puff. Your concern and wishes 
will, I trust, obtain the wished-for sucpess, (or 



t 153 ] 

your Lordshippss ever obliged cosen and ser- 
vant, &c. 

E. TNCHIQUIN. 
S. Yollant begs her humble service; and Mrs. 
Walker, who, I guess, you'l gain a conquest off, 
if you but remember her brother, and gain your 
point. I wish you heere for the same reason, 
heere being a pretty woman that dines with us 
to-day, that was bred in France. I've time to 
write to no friends, but your letter to-day, 

LETTER XCIII. 
From Lord Herbert to Lord Capell.* 

Aug. Wth^ 1695, 

I should be wanting to myseife, if I should 
omit this oportunity of writing to your Excel- 
lency, and assureing you that 'twould be a 
greater satisfaction to me to kisse your hands 
than make any excuse, having received a writ of 
summons, by the name of Baron of Castle Island, 
to attend the Parliament at Dublin the 27th of 
this month. But my sister th'other day dying 
in childbed, and leaving a child, obledges me to 
stay here to look after my trust, who is at present 
under the care of two chirurgeons. 1 hope your 
Excellency will accept of this apology from 
your reall servant, 

HERBERT. 

* Lord Deputy of Ireland; partial and oppressive in liis go- 
vernment, and peculiarly harsh in Ills conduct towards the 
Koman Catholics. — Smollett, ix. b^. 



[ 154 ] 

LETTER XCIV. 

From Lord Torrington,* to Lord 
Herbert. 

Jan. 31, —96. 
I received both your Lordship's letters, bat 
indeed am hardly well enough to come to towne^ 

* Arthur, Earl of Torrington, eldest son of Sir Edward Her- 
bert, knight, attorney-general to King Charles II. by Margaret, 
daughter and heiress of Sir Thomas Smith. Arthur was created 
Earl of Torrington by King William. He entered the sea ser- 
vice early in life, and wa« employed against Algiers in 1683 ; 
In which expedition he so signalized himself as to be instituted 
rear-admiral of England, 4th February, 1684. On King James's 
accession to the throne, not choosing to comply with the measures 
of that iniquitious reign, he was turned out of all his employ- 
tnents; but taking an active and honourable part in the revolu- 
tion, was received into favour by William and Mary, and con- 
stituted first commissioner of the Admiralty. For his conduct in 
Bantry Bay, Ireland, against the French fleet on the 1st of May, 
1684, he received the honour of peerage, by patent, bearing date 
the 29th of May in the same year. On June the 30th, 1690, he 
again fought the French fleet, but with less distinguished suc- 
cess ; an action which was thought so inglorious, that, in conse- 
quence of the general discontent, he was brought to trial to 
account for its result. Among the manuscript papers 
before the Editolr are the two following : the one endorsed, a 
<' Coppy of the letter to the Commons of the Admiralty, about 
" the tryall of the Earle of Torrington :" the other, " Rere-Ad- 
" mirall Rookes reasons, why he would not be of tlie court- 
-martial, held Dec. 10th, 90.'' — "To the Commissioners, 
** &c..*' — •" After our hearty commendations, we doe hereby 
'* signifie unto you her Majesty's pleasure that you forthwith 
*' issue out a commission for the tryall of the Earle of Tor- 
" rington, by any sea commanders who were not in the late 
" engagement between the English and the French fleet. And 
" that in order thereunto, you issue out your warrant for com- 
" mitting the said Earle to the custody of yQur marshall. And 



[ 155 ] 

frost has hindered me from taking the ay re ou 
horseback, and my calesh breaking with the 
hazard of my neck, has deprived me of the 
conveniency of taking the ayre that way, which, 
I believe has a little retarded my recovery ; but, 
did I believe the King had any comands for me, 
I would run any hazard to receive them. If he 
should happen to ask you for me,, or without, 

/ * so we bid5'^ou very heartily farewell. From the Council 
" Chamber in Whitehall, the 8th day of August, 1690. 
" Your very loving friends, 
" Carmarthen P. Norfolk E. Marshall, Bolton, Winchester^ 
" Devonshire, Bathe, Nottingham, Faulconherg, 3IontagUf 
*' Marlborough, H. Capell, John Loiuther, R. Hampden^ 
** Hen. Powlet, J. Holt, Hen. Goodwick, Hen. Boscaiven. 
^' To our very loving friends, the Commissioners for executing 
*•' the office of Lord High Admirall of England.'* 

" Gentlemen, — Before I proceede to take my oath, I must 
" begge the Court will please to excuse my sitting on my Lord 
" T — 's tryall, in regarde I had the misfortune of laying under 
" some unreasonable censures of being remisse in my duty in 
" that same action; andtho' I might dispense with bsingwit- 
" nesse and judge in this case, I can't, in honoure and con- 
** science, give my vote of judgment where I have been a witnesse, 
" and where some people have unjustly rendered me a partie. 
" My case is different from every gontleman here; therefore I hope 
" my scruple in this case will influence no man heare. I have 
" given my depositions in as a witnesses and if I can bo further 
" serviceable to the King in that circumstance, I am verie readie 
" and willing to answer any questions the Courte may please to 
*' aske me. I doe this with all my duty and honoure to the K. 
" and the Lord High Admirall, and with all the respect imagin- 
" able to this Courte." 

On the tryall, the inequality of strength between the fleetiJ, 
and the disadvantage of the wind to the English, were so fully 
proved, that his Lordship was acquitted: but he was naturally 
much affected, and deeply disgusted, at the enquiry ; and never 
made any effort to be employed afterwards. 



[ 156 1 

tvould it be improper to ask him that question, 
with a complement at the end? I am very 
sorry you will not afford a poor country farmer 
a little news, but cannot talce it unkindly, 
because I know 'tis with a good meaning to 
your most faithful humble servant, 

TORRINGTON, 

To the Right Hon. the Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbury, at 
his house in Leicesjer-Fields, London. 



LETTER XCV. 

From the same to the same, 

iMunday, 
Yesterday I received your Lordship's letter 
by Mr. Greene, and am very glad to hear of the 
favour that is designed ine by your Lordship, 
and the rest of the good company, but I shall 
be much betterpleased in seeing the performance, 
though it should happen by the addittion of 
Doctor Radclif's company, who may venter, 
niow I am perfectly restored to health, and prety 
well furnished with wine frpm the Vine. I 
desire I may know the day before, , because 
brother Harry keeps me to hard exercise, if 
you think hunting every day is soe; and very 
often six or eight myle from home, and of those 
day es our return is to late to meet Londoners 
at dinner. I have another request, that it may 
be before Friday, because then wee have 



i 157 3 

apoiiited a progresse, that will take us up some 
dayes; wee are just now going" out with the 
hounds, as w^ee have done Thursday, Friday, 
aud Saterday ; I know not weather wee shall 
tire ourselves, but wee are so keen at the sporte, 
that the Denzils pack and oure oune are hard 
put to it. We poore country bumkins please and 
satisfy ourselves wdth these poor diversions, 
without envie of the senate, that wee are told, 
pursue that miserable comission of the Admi- 
ralty, that has made the kingdom allmost as 
wretched as themselves. I wish them with all 
my heart eternally confounded, that wee poore 
country farmers mought injoy oure innocent 
diversions in peace and quiet, and the nation 
its trade, and more prosperite, than possibly it 
can under the management of sutch insipid 
ignorants, as that commission is composed of ; 
I know not well, why, I say this now, since you 
have long agoe, upon this subject, knowne the 
mynde of your Lordship's most humble servant, 

TORRINGTON, 



LETTER XCVI. 
From the same to the same. 

February 19, — 97. 
I could not let Brian come to towne without 
inquiring after your health, and desiering to 
know whether any day is apointed for the 



[ 158 ] 

eomitiiig the bill forjVSlcating the English grants ; 
that, since it is youropinioHj I may be iti towne 
at that tyme, though my health will but ill 
admit of it; and I am apt to thinke my presence 
will doe but little servise, for if the reason of the 
matter will not carry it, I doubt my small 
interest will not avayle much ; but however I 
acquiesse unto your bettter judgement, that am in 
all things, my Lord, your most faithful servant, 

TORRINGTOK 



LETTER xgvir. 

From the same to the same, 

Jan, 11. 
I had sooner returned you my hearty thanks 
for yours by Mr. Greene, but that I -could not 
prevayle with him to leave the country sooner 
than to-morrow morning. I have been very ill, 
indeed; but have now got the better of my 
distemper, after a very hard tug : it was a very 
violent cold, accompanied with as great a head 
ache and feavour, which have been all overcome 
by fasting and burnt brandy, as surely as Peeter 
has by the devill to rob and cheat every body 
that has trusted him, and me amongst the rest. 
He has, without taking leave, made an elope- 
ment to Scotland, as I suppose to starve there, 
in order to prevent being hanged here. I am 
sorry he is not accompanied with a horse-whip 



i U9 3 

or two, for 'tis pity soe honest a gentlemaji 
should goe by himself. 

I shoaid be glad to hear what has been the 
success of the Lord against the three ladies, 
for romantick heads are sometvmes attended 
with extraordinary adventures. If any busnesse 
happens to stand in need of soe weake help as 
myne, I hope in a week's tyme to be able to obey 
a sunions; and in the mean tyme anv, my Lord, 
your most faithfull friend, and servant, ,^ 

TORRINGTON, 



LETTER XCYIII. 
From the same to the same, 

Feb. 20, —98. 

My Lord,—! received your Lordship's oa 
Saturday night, and am very glad to hear the 
King will honour our country w^ith his presence. 
I hope hunting will get him a good stomach, 
and then no doubt a country dinner will please 
him. 

I must desire you w411 doe me the favour, 
to send me one of your great salvers for glasses, 
and if occasion be, half a dozen knives, forks, 
and spoons^ and, my Lord, I desire, that at 
the same tyme you send me notice of the day 
the King will be here; you will send to Mr, 
Hinton, to lett him know against what tyme, h© 



[ iSd ] 

must send me the things I have writ for, because 
I should like to have every thing in order. I am ^ 
my Lord, your most hnmble and obedient 
servant, 

TOERlNGTONv 

LETTER XCIX. 

From the same to the same. 

Feb. 21, —98. 
1 cannot let Brian goe, without a line, to 
desire your Lordship will not fayle to lett Mr. 
tlinton know the tyme, as soone as you doe ; 
for it is from him that I expect my provision. 
I think of coming to towne some tyme this 
week, if I have no commands to the contiary, 
I am, my Lord, your most humble servant, 

TORRINGTON. 

Mr Hinton lodges at Mr. Portman's, in 
Manchester- court, Westminster. 

LETTER G. 

From the same to the same. 

March the 6, —98. 
By what I can hear, the King still designs to 
hunt hear one day; but when, remains still under 
some uncertainty. I hope for tymely notice, 
because I should really be very much ashamed 
of a surprise. I would therefore beg one favour 



[ 1^1 ] 

more ; that your Lordship would send to Charles 
Christian, he lives in Orange-court, by Hedge- 
lane, he is to bring" me downe a cooke; pray 
doe me the favour to send for him, and tell him 
that you will give him early notice, when he is 
to- come, and pray lett him have notice, as soone 
as Mr. Hinton has, that he may be downe with 
me in tyme. I think of making a step to towns 
some tyme this week, and am your Lordship's 
most faithful humble servant, 

TORRINGTON. 

LETTER Cf, 
From the same to the same* 

Munday, April 1.8, -^98. 
This is to inquire how your country journey 
agreed with your health, and to lett you know, 
that it has perfectly establisht myne; pray if the 
King gives himself the trouble of inquiering 
after me, let him know^ that, what has some- 
tymes kept him longer in England, than consists 
with his affaires abroade, keepes me now in the 
country; that is, want of money; and, pray 
direct your butler to send me the six dozen 
bottels he refuses to give the waterman, for I 
am in great want of them. When the bill about 
estates granted comes into the house, pray put 
my good friend the solicitor in minde to alter 
my clause, I am your's, 

TORRINGTON, 

M 



[ 162 ] 

LETTER ClI. 

From the same to the same. 

Wensday* 
It is no small affliction to me you should 
have need of any servisse for me, at a tyme my 
health will not suffer me to attend it ; but I am 
sure you will the better excuse it, when you see, 
that though my all lies at stake, I am not in a 
condition to stirr. A bill is ordered to bee 
brought in, to vacate all grants made in this 
reigne. I hope for your Lordship's assistance 
for an exception to my grants ; the more, be- 
cause I am not able to attend it myself, that 
am^ my Lord, your most faithful, humble servant, 

TORRINGTOK 

LETTER CIIL 

From the same to the same. 

Munday, 

I had the favour of your's on Friday last, the 
first day of my ventering out of my chamber, 
after spitting blood for severall dayes. Nature 
and the w^eather will, I hope, set all to rights 
againe. I shall thinke myselfe much oblidged 
to you for what news your ley sure will afford 
tOj my Lord, your most faithfull, humble servant, 

TORRINGTON. 



[ 163 ] 

LETTER CIV. 

From Dr. Thos. Kn^ipe* to Lord Herbeht. 

SepL 19, 1696. 
My Lord,— I do not at all wonder that Mr« 
Herbert^J in his idle and careless fitts, which he 
has often been tront>led with, should put 3^our 
Lordship in a passion ; I am sure he has many 
and many a time vext me to the heart with them. 
But that he should make you displeased with me 
too, it is something' strange to me, who have not 
failed upon all occasions to acquaint your Lord- 
ship with his unsufferable negligence, and un- 
willingness to apply his mind to his business, 
which, if he had done of himself, or your Lordship 
and I could have prevailed with him to do, I 

* Dr. Thomas Knipe was master of Westminster School, and 
prebendary of Westminster. Dr. Wm. King, the celebrated 
civilian, dedicated to him his historical account of the Heathen 
Gods, &c.; in which dedication he makes the following handsome 
mention of Dr. Knipe, by whom he had been educated : " Though 
'* I have lost my natural parents, who were most indulgent to 
" me, and the grave Dr. Busoy, whose memory to me shall for 
" ever be held sacred, yet I thank God I have a master still 
*' remaining, to whom I may pay my duty and acknowledgments 
" for the benefits I have received in my education." Dr. Knipe 
died August 6, 1711 ; and was buried in Westminster Abbey, 
A long Latin inscription appears on his monument. 

X The young gentleman in question was Henry Herbert, son 
of Lord Herbert, and grandson of Sir Henry Herbert; and 
succeeded to the title and estate at Ribbesford on the death of 
his father, which happened on Jan. 22, 1708 — 9. When that 
event occurred, he was Member of Parliament forBewdley; and 
continued high steward and recorder of tJiat borough tillhi3 
death in 1738* 

>X 2 



r 164 ] 

should have had thanks for the success, tho' I 
have none for my great pains, care, and trouble. 
I was several times sending him home to your 
Lordship as hopeless, as indeed I have some- 
times threatened him ; but that I imputed his 
carelessness to his childishness, which, though 
it>has remained longer with him than others of 
his age, I expected would go off by degrees; and 
then I knew his parts, which I don't at all find 
fault with, joyned with the continuation of my 
care, would make amends for the neglect of his 
childhood, and please both your Lordship and 
himself at last; for learning is to children as 
tobacco is to some people, it makes them sick at 
firstj and when they have got the trick of it, they 
will never leave it. But hitherto he has been 
so much a child, that when he has been called 
from his play to his studies, he has stood in the 
yard, crying, and blubbering, and roaring, as 
your own servants have sometimes heard him, be- 
cause he might not play longer ; when other 
children have gone immediately to their studies, 
laughing all the way to see him such a child. 
If this infirmity of his leaves him, I don't doubt, 
but, upon his continuance with me, to finish him. 
And yet, my Lord, notwithstanding this averse- 
iiess, I have pour'd so much into him, as it wiere 
with a horn, that unless he dos it on purpose, he 
can make both true Latin and true verse, if he 
pleases. I am sure he hath don so, both in his 
i>wn chamber before Mr. Jones, and in my 



[ 165 ] 

room before me ; and if your Lordship propose 
him some reward he were very fond of, I believe 
he would do so before you. 

Your Lordship has been pleased to object to 
me, ten pounds a year extraordinary more then 
others pay me. If you shall be pleased to re-^ 
member, that such allowance was made ^Br 
taking up a whole chamber to himself, such a 
one, as by the admission of chamber fellows, I 
have received three times as much as your Lord^ 
ship payes; and that he has had the use of my 
goods, bed and bedding", &c., which all others 
bring along with them, and sometimes leave 
behind them ; and that I have not demanded 
any schooling, which he pay'd formerly, and 
others have pay'd to me, besides their boarding; 
I imagine your Lordship will not think 1 
have such a different rate for him, as to have it 
objected tome. But it has not been for that, 
or for the want of that, that I have been more or 
less zealous in my duty ; but out of the great 
love I have for the child, whose good nature I 
will alwayes speak well of, and whose learning 
will, I hope, in time speak for itself, especially 
if he has not so many avocations as of late he 
has had; and out of the true honour I have 
alwayes had for your Lordship, so I am still 
ready to serve you, if you think fitt to try your 
son any longer here, and to make use of, my 
Lord, your Lordship's most faithful and humble 
servant, 

THO. KNIPE. 



[ 166 ] 

LETTER CV. 

JFVom the Rev. Anthony Lucas* to Lord 
Heubfht. 

Diihlyn^ StJi Dec. 1696, 

My Honored Lord, — Tho' I troubled your 
Lordship with a letter lately (by the Bishop of 
Ossory), yet 1 thought myself oblig-'d to give 
your Lordship an account of the suddain death 
of our Lord Chancellor, Sir Charles Porter,f 
who this day din'd and seeni'd very well; re- 
tired to his closet to write a letter, sat down in 
his chair, and dyed, not speaking* one word, not 
stirring either foot or hand. The surgeons us'd 
all proper meanes, but all was ineffectual!. I 
first gave my Lord Monmouth an account of it, 
who ordered the pacquets to be stopt. I pre- 
sume there will be a Councill to-morroWo 
Whatever is done here, of any moment, your 
Lordship shall have as faithful! a relation as I 
can procure. I sent by the Monmouth yatcht, 
to Chester, a small present of Usquebagh, which 
I hope will come by Chest: carrier safe to 

* Rector of Ribbesford, on the presentation of Lord (when 
Mr.) Herbert; who also obtained Irish preferment for him. 

f " He was chancellor when Lord Capel was deputy, and his 
5^ opponent in politics ; befriending the cause of the Irish against 
" the severity of his Lordship's administration, A motion was 
" made in the House of Commons, in consequence of this oppo- 
" sition, to impeach him; bnt he vindicated himself before the 
*' House, and was voted clear of all imputation.^' — Smollet, ix. ^(i. 



[ 167 ] 

your Lordship speedily. With very humble 
service to my Lady, and Mr. Herbert. I am, 
my honoured Lord, your Lordship's ever obliged 

humble servant, 

ANT. LUCAS^ 

My wife, I thank God, is recovering. 



LETTER CVI. 
From Mr. J. Talbott* to the same. 

Cambridge, 9>St1i Nov. 1697. 

My Lord, — The Yice-Chancellor having fa- 
voured me with the disposal of some copies of our 
book of verses upon the peace, I was ambitious 
of thisopportunity of presenting one to your Lord- 
ship, as a token of our loyalty to the king, and of 
my dutiful respects to your Lordship, whose 
courage was so eminently instrumental in begin- 
ningthat glorious deliverance, which his Majesty 
has so happily accomplished. I doubt, my Lord, 
the criticks of the Dra wing-Room will be some- 
what disappointed by our omission of English 
poetry, which is not the constant growth of this 
soil. 'Tis enough, if once in a reign our uni- 
versity can produce a Montague or a Dryden : 

* James Talbot, D.D. and publisher of an edition of Horace. 
He died the 20th of October, 1708, and lies buried at Spofforth, 
Yorkshire, of which parish he was rector .^ — Nichols's Literanj 
Anecdotes, voL iv.p. 174. 



C 168 ] 

here are many, indeed, that might be more 
willing than the later to complement the go- 
vernment upon this joyful occasion ; but as we 
have very few (if any) that can pretend to the 
abilities of those great masters, soe it was 
thought adviseable not to encourage any attempts 
in that kind, from which we could promise our- 
selves so little success. But though our Latin 
poetry is not calculated for the meridian of the 
court, your Lordship, I hope, who is so able a 
judge, may find some entertainment in this 
book ; which, indeed, might have been better, 
if it had been shorter by one page, and the 
trifle which you'll find at the latter end, had 
"been omitted; but the authority of the Vice- 
Chancellor's commands upon me, to close the 
book, prevailed with me above the consideration 
of my own defects ; which as your Lordship's 
judgment must discern, so I know your good- 
ness will excuse. With my most humble ser- 
vice to my lady, and duty to Mr. Herbert, I 
remain your Lordship's most obedient humble 
servant, 

J. TALBOT. 

Mr. Bedell, by whom I send this, has pro- 
mised to present your Loidshij) with a book, as 
soon as one is presented to the King. 



[ 169 ] 


'"■:'. 


?■'■' 


LETTER CVII. 




?;i 


From Lady Every* to the 


same. 
Feb.lQth. 





Dear Brother, — You are not consarned 
wheather your poore sister has laine under a 
snow drift this severe weather, but soils your- 
selfe with your fine ladye, or what may give 
you satisfaction; an truly, without fooling", 1 
inust tell you noe dog* would a lived in the coun- 
tery this winter, but those hose husbands are 
masters, for the like was never felt nor suffered. 
Snow, frost, an floods not to be related, but 
nove wee begine to live againe. Sence you 
ware hear, I have never ben out of doors. I 
love to be free an easey with you, an I cannot 
forbeare teilinsf you that Jack dos not manado-e 
his interest right with neather father nor mother; 
he makes himselfe master of his tyme, gives noe 
account when he goes out, lyes much at neighbor's 
houses, is tomuche an idle younger brother, which 
I ever hated the thoughts of. Is it not posibl& 
to find out som iniployment for him? Muney 
should not be wanting to pay for any thing, if 
he would lay his inclination to it; he much 
weakens his intrestwith his father, and I have 

* When it is recollected, that Lady Vere Every was horn 
in the }ear 1627; this and the following letter will be considered 
worth insertion, from the specimens they af.ord of a singular 
^spriglitliness of mind at the advanced age of 75! 



[ 170 ] 

much adoe to keepe a right understanding in 
his behalfe, which, I feare, will not be long; but 
all this pray keepe to yourselfe. The Lady 
Muntington sent to me this day to se me. She 
is not yet brought to bed. She is under my 
circumstance, full sick of ill weather. The 
poore Lord Chesterfield has had an ill winter of 
it, and the Lady Bellamonnt ; but I thank God, 
with wine and good fires we are all very well; 
an it will be a great satisfaction to me to heare 
that you an Harry ware so. 

Duty an sar vices whare due, an receave the 
true affection of your sister and servant, 

Y, EVEKY, 



LETTER CVIII. 

From the samSy to the same, 

July 6, —98. 
I cannot let you alone, but must needs inquire 
after my deare brother's good nature, what is 
become of it ? I am shure you have not sent 
any of it into Darbyshire this good while. I 
finde it has. not holy left the men, for the last 
Saturday Mr. Cooke was married to Lady Mary 
Stanhope ; we were there, the only neighbours 
invited. On Friday next, all the acquaintances 
must make a gr<^at day of it, and my Lord 
apeares very much pleased. Its reported that 
Sir John Waters comes very speedily to marry 



f 171 3 

Betty Vernon, cloatbes are conse downe for tlia*. 
perpus; but some is willing to beleve it may 
prove a disapointment, for so much good fortune 
is not wished hir by all; hir great buly is not so 
charming to all in this countrey, it has been to 
long looked upon. The Lord Huntington is 
gon for London. His Lady I mete to morrow at 
Darby. This is all my newes, and the satisfac^ 
tion of your health and Harrys will obiidge your 
affectionate sister and servant, 

V. EVERY. 

I cannot give you Sir H. E.'s service, for he 
is gon to Captain Laines. I hope he is well; 
poore Nan is your faithful servant. 

LETTER CIX. 

From Monsieur Boyer* to Lord Herbert. 

Hanslop, July 2d, 1699. 
My Lord, — In obedience to your Lordships 
command, this is to give you an account of Mr. 
Herbert's studies, and 1 wish I may do it, so as 

* Abel Boyer, a well-kno^n glossograpLer and historiogra- 
pher, was born at Castres, in France, in the year 1664. Upon 
the revocation of the edict of Nantes he went to Geneva, and 
from thence to Francker, where he finished his studies. After- 
wards he came over to England, v* here he spent the remainder 
of his life, and died at Chelsea upon the 16th Nov. 1729. His 
works were, an excellent French and English Dictionary, a 
French Grammar, " The Political State of Great Britain,'' and 
*'The History of King William and Queen Mary.'' — Biog, 
Diet, V, a, 300. 



[ 172 ] 

to give satisfaction both to your Lordship and 
him, without doing- injustice to either. The 
truth is^ our progress has been but slow ; but, 
however, 'tis such as cannot justly merit your 
Lordship's disapprobation. Feslinat lente, may 
be the motto of Mr. Herbert, in relation to his 
exercises. There remains still in him an 
averseness to books, which is not a little fortified 
by the frequent opportunities he has of going 
abroad to his country sports; but then your 
Lordship's orders are a prevailing motive to 
bring him to his studies ; so that all he does 
must be ascribed to the desire he has of beins: 
dutiful!. On my part I do all that lies in my 
power to discharge the trust your Lordship has 
been pleased to repose in me, and to shew with 
how much respect and reality I am, my Lord, 
your Lordship's very humble and most obedient 
servant, 

A. BOYEK. 



LETTER ex. 

From Lord GodoivPhin,* to Loud Henry 
Herbert. 

Sept. 24, —98. 

My Lord, — I have the honour of your Lord- 
ship's letter, as also of the former mentioned in it; 

* The interesting Burnet has given us the following sketch of 
the character of this great man, and profound statesman. He 



[ 173 ] 

I have spoken several times with Mr. Baber, my 
Lady Simderlaiids agent, in order to conclude 
yourtedious affayre; hee seems still desiring" to 
agree it, but would not bee positive till he had 
spoken with my lady herselfe, who being now iu 
town, I hope a very short time will bring it to 
amend. I give your Lordship many thanks for 

• was the younger brother of an ancient family in Cornwall, thathad 
been bred about King Charles II. from a page, and was consi- 
dered as one of the ablest men that belonged to his court. He 
was the silentest and modestcst man that was perhaps ever bred 
in a court. He had a clear apprehension, and dispatched 
business with great method, and with so much temper that he had 
no personal enemies ; but his silence begot a jealousy which had 
hung long upon him. His notions were for the country, but his in- 
rupt and sincere way of managing the treasury created in all 
people a very high esteem for him. He loved gaming the most 
of any man of business I ever knew; and gave one reason for 
it, because it delivered him from the obligation to talk much. 
He had true principles of religion and virtue, and was free from 
all vanity; and never heaped up much wealth: he was one of 
the wisest and \\dttiest me^i that have been employed in our time ; 
and he had much of the confidence of four of our succeeding 
Princes. Vol. i. 487. The early part of Godoiphin's political 
life is the least consonant with the principles of honour and pa- 
triotism ; nor can we avoid being deeply hurt when we see him, 
together with Sunderland, Rochester, and Lord Churchill, (after- 
wards Duke of Marlborough,) consenting to be agents, and go 
betweens, iu the wretched intrigue of James with Louis XIV, by 
which James (like his brother Charles II.) was compromising the 
liberty- and independence of his country for French gold. " It is 
" with difficulty,'' says Mr. Fox, in detailing the particulars 
of this part of the English History, " that the reader can per- 
" suade himself, that the Godolphin and Churchill liere mentioned 
" are the same persons who were afterwards, one in the Cabinet 
"" and another in the field, the great conductors of the war of the 
" succession.'" — History, ^c. p. 88. Godolphin at the date of thift 
correspondence was First Comjnissioner of the Treasury. 



[ 174 ] 

your offer to send mee some cyder, but it does 
not agree with mee, and will therefore spare 
you that trouble. I am, my Lord, your 
Lordship's most obedient servant, 

GODOLPHIN. 

LETTER CXI. 
From Lord Henry Herbert to Lord 

GODOLPHIN. 

Sept. 30, —95. 

I'm extreamly oblig-ed to your Lordship foi^ 
the favour of your letter, in answer to which, 
and once more, 1 must beg an addition to your 
many favours, thai if Lady Sunderland, Mr. 
Stephen Fox, Mr. Baber, or any body else, make 
any more delays in this tedious affaire, you will 
be pleased to give your judgment in it, since 'tis 
refer'd to you. But if that be too much for me, 
I desire you will get me the judgment of your 
board upon the wilful defaults of Robson, and 
you will forever oblidge, my Lord, your real 
servant, 

HERBERT. 

May I beg the great favour of a line from you. 



[ 175 J 

LETTER CXII. 

The Duke of Shrewsbury* to Lord Henry 
Herbert. 

Thursday Morning. 

My Lord, — Upon Tuesday in the night I 
was taken with such a paine and weakness in 
one of my knees, that I coudn't move without 
help, nor stir out of my chamber, which forces 
me to ask your Lordship's excuse for not wait- 
ing on you to-morrow, as I designed, and as I 
shall always be desirous to do, w^hen I am able^ 
being, my Lord, your Lordship's most faithfull 
and obedient servant, 

SHREWSBURY. 

I have sent no notice to Mr. Bromley, not 
knowing but your Lordship might desire to 
meet him. 

* Charles Talbot, Earl, and created Duke^ of Shrewsbury by 
King William, in 1693, had been educated a Papist, butrenoMnced 
that faith, after very ciitical and anxious investigation of its 
pretensions. It was conceived by some that his enquiries had 
given a tinge of scepticism to his mind; but his honour and 
probity were unimpeachable. His learning was considerable ; 
Ms judgment sound ; and his temper equal and amiable. He 
Lad much power, at different times ; and he always executed it 
with credit to himself, and satisfaction to others. Like all other 
courtiers, he experienced the ebbs and flows of Royal patronage ; 
but, though often envied, and sometimes out of favour, his well- 
known excellence, and long-experienced usefulness, always 
restored him to the confidence, which he had for a time unde- 
servedly lost. 



[ 170 1 

LETTER CXIJI. 
From the same to the same, 

Grafton, I6th Oct, 1699* 

My Lord, — I should have been very sorry 
that your Lordship or Mr. Herbert should have 
g-iven yourself the trouble of so inconvenient a 
journey as this weather will now make the 
roads hereabouts, to give me thanks for what is 
rather an obligation on my side. I am sorry I 
cannot do your son the complement of proposing 
him to the King for a deputy lieutenant, the law 
requiring him to be of age before he is enabled to 
act in that station. His lieutenant and cornet 
were bothhere yesterday, and seem extream happy 
and satisfied. The quarter-master was here 
also ; and tho' he say'd nothing tome, I hear he 
expressed himself much discontented at the 
cornet's being put over his head. I was in hopes 
your Lordship had mentioned it to him ; and 
concluded, that being nearly related to Mr, 
Baret, he had settled this with his consent. 

I am sure his Majesty is so assured of your 
Lordship's zeal for his service, that he is en- 
tirely disposed to give you all possible marks 
of his favour and esteem. It is presumption in 
a man, who is forced to be such a cypher himself, 
to offer his assistance to another; but I desire 
always to be commanded by you when you 
think it possible for me to be of the least use 



[ 177 ] 

to you ; and tho' 1 am not a powerfall, I shall 
ever be your Lordship's faithfull, humble servant, 

SHREWSBURY. 

LETTER CXIV. 
From the same to the same, 

Tuesday Morn. 

My Lord, — Being" obliged by my illness to 
go out of towne for some time, I could not omit 
giveing your Lordship thanks for your present 
of braun ; and at the same time acquainting you, 
that I shall be the readiest in the world to serve 
Mr. Lechmere's son; but at present, nor since 
I had the staff, there has been no vacancy 
proper to be offered to him; and I doubt in my 
disposal], there are no places of such a nature as 
he expects, they being all of small value, and 
no busyness beyond makeing a legg or setting a 
chair * I am, my Lord, your Lordship's most 
faithfull,, humble servant, 

SHREWSBURY. 

* The Duke of Shrewsbury was appointed Lord Chamberlain 
in 1699. 



N 



appeii^ii: : 



Consisting of curious 313, Documents, illustrating 
the foregoing Letters. 



No. 

1 I^OPY of Warrant for the payment of /'o2 to 

the Master of the Revells. 

2 Ditto of the Demands of Sir Henry Herbert for 

his wagos. 

3 Ditto of Warrant granted to Fencers. 

4 Ditto of Mr. Thomas Killegrew's Promissory Note 

to Sir H. Herbert. 

5 Ditto of Sir Henry Herbert's Heads of Instruction 

to Mr. Thomas Kiiiegrew. 

6 Ditto of a Prayer composed by Edward Lord Her- 

bert of Cherbury. 

7 Ditto of ditto by King Charles I. 

8 Ditto of ditto by Sir Henry Herbert. 

9 Ditto of Sir Henry Herbert's Notes during the 

Northern Expedition. 

10 Ditto of a Grant of Wardship to Sir H. Herbert. 

11 Ditto of Form of Protestation Oath, administered 

by Prince Rupert. 

12 Ditto of Articles exhibited against John Boraston, 

clerk, 

13 Ditto of additional Articles against ditto. 

14 Ditto of a relation of what passed at the Council, 

between Lord Sidney and Sir Rowland Gwynne, 
April 9, 1692. 

N 2 



[ 180 ] 



No. 1, 

Warrant for the Payment of Fiftie-two Pounds to Sir 
Henry Herbert, kt. Mr. of the Revells* for his lodgeinge 
out of Court by the space of 52 Weekes, ended at our 
Ladie-daie last, 1627. 

WHEREAS you are authorized by virtue of 
bis Majestie's Letters Patents, beareinge d^te the l6tb 

* The office of the Reveils was first instituted in the reign of 
Henry VIII. in the year 1546, and placed under the department 
ef the Lord Chamberlain. The objects included within its 
jurisdiction were numerous, as appears from tlie " Heads of 
" Instruction given to Mr. Thomas Killegrew,'' in No. 4 of this 
Appendix. Sir Thomas Cawarden, who died 1559, was first 
appointed to the mastership ; and was succeeded by Sir Thomas 
Borenger, or Benger, on the appointment of Queen Elizabeth. 
JBorenger died in March 1577 ; the office, however, of Master 
of the Revells does not appear to have been again filled till 
1579, when Edmund Tilney, who is called Majister Ludorum 
in the Register of the Herald's College, was appointed to it. 
During his exercise of the authority of his, then, important 
place, the weighty matter of the precedence of the Master of 
the Revells was settled; and a certificate, bearing date the 
43d of Elizabeth, authorised Edmund Tylney, esq; " to myngle 
" with those knightes off.eers that have their precedencies 
" before all other batchelor knightps.'' With the consent, 
or by the recommendation of Tylney, George Bucke, his 
kinsman, obtained a reversionary grant of the office of the 
Revells in June 1603, at which time he was knighted, and ap- 
pointed one of the King's gentlemen of the privy chamber, and 
began to act as assistant to T}lney about tvvo years afterwards. 
Either unable or unwilling to exercise the functions of his office 
longer, he resigned it, at the close of the year 1621, (two years 
before his death,) to Sir John Astlcy, knight. Sir Henry Herbert 
succeeded Sir John Astiey as Master of the Revels in 1623, 
through the interest, probably, of his relation, Philip Earl of 
Pembroke, then Lord Chamberlain, and held the office till his 
death in 1673, through a period of 50 years. From No. 4, Ap- 
pendix, it should seem that Mr, Thomas Killcgrev/ was appointed 



[ 181 ] 

daie of June, l625, made and granted in confiimacon 
of diverse warrants and privie scales unto you formerlie 
directed in the tyine of our late deceased sovereigne 
King James, (amongest other thinges) to make pay- 
ment for the lodgings for such of his Majestie*s servants 
as are allowed them, and yet are not lodged withiu 
anie of his Highaes houses: Theis are to pray and 
require yon, out of his Majestie's treasure in your 
charge, to paie, or cause to be paid, unto Sir Henry 
Herbert, knightCj Master of his Majestie's Revells, the 
some of fiftie aad twoe pounds, being after the rate of 
xxs. a weeke for his lodgeing out of courte by thd 
space of fiftie and twoe weekes, viz. from the Feast of 
Annunciacon of our blessed Virgin Marie, 1626, to 
the Feast of Annunciacon of our said blessed Virgin 
Mary, next after followinge, 1627, as by his bill, 
certified by Wm. Glover, esq; one of his Majestie's 
gentlemen ushers, and dailie wayters, hereto annexed, 
may appeare. And theis, togeither with his acquittance 

by Sir Henry Herbert, Ms deputy or assistant in the office during 
the Knight's life ; but however this may be, he was succeeded in 
it by this gentleman, on his death. la 1683, Killegrew himself died; 
and Charles Killegrew was appointed to the vacant office. 
During five successive reigns this gentleman exercised the now 
limited authority of Master of the Revells ; and left an office 
nearly nominal, in 1725, to Charles Hemy Lee, who by his death 
vacated it in 1744, and made room for the last Master of the 
Revells, Solomon Dayroile ; though, as Mr. Chalmers observes, it 
is not easy to tell wherein his office consisted, except that he had 
a lodging of no convenient extent, and a fee of no great value. 
His ancient jurisdiction had been transferred in 1737, by legal 
authority, to a licenser of the stage, and to the deputy licenser ; 
who thenceforth performed between them all the functions of the 
ancient office of the Master of the Revells, and are, to this day, 
empowered, by legal means, to execute the invidious trust. 
— 'See Chalmers's interesting and curious " Supplemental Apology 
/* for the Believers in the Shakespeare Papers." — P. 210. 



[ 182 ] 

for the receipts thereof, shall be yoar warrant. The* 
obalds, this 17 of Julie, 1627. 

MONGOMORIE. 
To Sir William Uvedale, knight, Treasurer of his Majestie's 
Chamber. 

Mensihus Martii^ Aprilis, Marii, Junii, Julii, Augustif 
SeptembriSf Octobr,, l^ovemhr., Decemh\^Januar.y Febr., 
et Martii ; amiis 1626, et 1627, Amioque Regni Regis 
Car oil 2d, et 3a. 

Sir Henry Herbert, knight, Mr. of his Majestie's 
Kevells, asketh allowance for his lodging, not being 
lodged in anie of his Majestie's houses by the 
space of fiftie-tvvo weekes, viz. from the Feast 
of the Aununciac5n of our blessed Virgin 
Mary, 1626, unto the Feast of Annunciacon 
of the said blessed Virgin next following, J627, 
dureing which tyme he hath given his attendance 
^at Courte, and been at charges for his lodging 
dureing the said tyme, in attending his said 
service, after the rate of xxs. per weeke, which 
lie prayes maie bee paid unto him by the Treasurer 
of his Majestie's Chamber. £bi. 

WILLIAM GLOVER. 



No. 2. 

.The Pemandesof Sir Henry Herbert, knight, for his wages 
and board wages, Sfc, as Master of the Revells to the- late 
King* 

Due to him to the last of October, 1638, 
as apeares by the Auditor's Bookes of 
Accountes, and by a Privy Scale, dated 
the sixtheof February, in the 16 yeare 
of the then Kinge Charles, the some of 1065 12 10 



C 183 1 

Due to him for dyet and boardinges, as 

appeares by the Auditor's Bookes of 

Accountes for 1639 230 

Due to him for the lyke for 1640, l641, 

and 1642, being three yeares, the some of 69O 
Due to him for four years Fees, at/ 10 

per annum, to 1643 ^ 40 



Some is /'«025 12 10 



No. Si 
Copy of a Warrant granted to Fencers. 

With the favour and priviledge of his Highnes the 
Duke of Yorke, it is agreed upon, by and betweene 
Francis Burges and WilHam Tubb, to play a tryall of 
skill at eight several! weapons, which are hereunder 
expressed, on the thirteenth day of August next, being 
Monday, at the Red Bull Playhouse.—SOth July. 166O. 

The Weapwns of Francis Burges The Weapons of Wfii, T%ibh 
Backe Sword Single Rapier 

Sword and Gantlet Rapier and Dagger 

Sword and Dagger Halfe Pike 

Sword and Buckler. Quarter Staffe. 

Whereas his Highnes the Duke of Yorke hath been 
pleased to comende unto me Francis Burges and Wm. 
Tubb, for a warant to playe a prize. 

These are to authorize the said Frances Burges and 
William Tubb to playe a prize at the weapons above 
named, at the House called the Red Bull, and for so 
doinge this shall be their warant. 

Dated the 30th July, 166O, H. HERBERT. 



[ 184 1 

No. 4. 

^•Mr. KillegreweV Promise to pay the Costes of Suite 
against the PlayersX, 

Julley 14, 166-2. 

I, Thomas Killigrew, doe by this presentesobleige 

myselfe to paey to Sir Henry Herbert all the costes 

and charges he shall apr, othe make apear, to be ex- 

pendded in the sute betwixt him and the Kinges 

* Thomas Killea^rew was page of honour to Charles 1st, 
and gentleman of the bedchamber to Charles lid, who, in 1651 
appointed him his resident in Venice. He was a man of wit and 
humour, and frequently entertained the King with his drollery. 
As Charles v/as wholly employed by his pleasures, and frequently 
in his mistress's apartments, when he should have been at the 
Counsel board, Killegrew took the following method to admonish 
him of his extreme Megligence, in regard to the affairs of the 
kingdom. He dressed himself in a pilgrim's habit, went into the 
King's chamber, and told him that he hated himself and the 
world; that he was resolved inmiediately to leave it, and was 
then entering upon a pilgrimage to hell. The King asked him 
what he proposed to do there? He said " to speak to the devil, 
** to send up Oliver Cromwell to take care of the English Govern- 
'*ment, as he had observed, with regret, that his successor was 
" always employed in other business." Ch^anger. Nothing, 
perhaps, ©an furnish a stronger proof of the contemptible 
character of Charles's court, and the degraded nature of his 
government, than the fact of such a wretched profligate as 
Killegrew being placed in a situation of official trust, confidence, 
and dignity. If his literary acquirements may be estimated 
by his ill-spelt and ill-written promissory note, they were of the 
most limited, the most abject description. For his connection 
with the office of Master of the Revells, see the note in 
Append. No. 1. 

X In the latter end of the year 1659, some months before thd 
restoration of King Charles II., the theatres, which had been 
suppressed during the usurpation, began to revive, and several 
plays were performed at the Red Bull, in St. John's-street, in 
that and the following year, before the return of the King. la 



l 185 ] 

companye of acters, in the axion of the caes which he 
had a werdict for against them, in leid Hall, woen 
(owing); and a part thereof, fortey pound, I hafe paid 
him. Witness my hande and seale the day and date 
over saide, 

THO. KILLIGREWE. 
Witnessy 

JO.CAREW, 

L. KIRKE. 

WALTER GYLES. 



No. 5. 

The heads of lohat I gam to Mr. Tho. Killegrew the 29th 
of March, 1664. 

1, To have a general! warrant for musick throughout 
England, wfiich is practised already, but many are very 
obstinate, and refuse to take lycences, especially in 
cities and townes corporate, under the pretence of 
being freemen. 

June, 1660, three companies seem to have been formed ; one in 
Salisbury-court; that at the Red Bull; and one at the Cockpit, 
in Drury-Iane. Sir Henry Herbert, who still retained the office 
of Master of the Revels, endeavoured to obtain from the com- 
panies the same emoluments which he had formerly derived from 
the exhibition of plays; but, after a long struggle, and after 
having brought several actions at law against Sir Wm. Davenant, 
Mr. Betterton, Mr. Mohun, and other players, he was obliged 
to relinquish his claims, and his office ceased to be attended with 
either authority or profit. It received its death wound from a grant 
from Charles II. Aug. 21, 1660, authorizing Mr. Thos. Killegrew 
and Sir Wm. Davenant to erect two new Theatres, and two new 
companies, of which they were to have the regulation; and 
prohibiting any other theatrical representation in London, 
Westminster, or other places, but those exjiibited by the said 
two companies. Malone's historical aecount of the English 
stage : edition of Shakespeare, 1813, vol. iii, page 293, 294. 



C is^ ] 

2. There being manj complaints of abuses in dancing 
schoolesj for want of a due inspection and regulation, 
an order is desired (as it is a most proper branch of the 
Revells) that I may bee impowered fto licence all the 
dancing schooles, and to bind them respectively against 
7m'xt dancing in the schooles, and other practises, which 
at present begette a scandalous report of them. This 
work is already began, and submitted to by some; but 
it cannot bee done generally, unles countenanced by 
regall authority. 

3. Touching wakes or rurall feasts, (another proper- 
branch of tiie Revells,) which are annually observed in 
the greatest part af England, it is humbly desired, that 
some countenance may be putt upon the lycencing of 
them, by which means many disorders may bee pre- 
vented; and though there bee but 10s. from the most 
eminent towns, and 5s. from the meaner parishes, (to 
bee paid annually by the churche wardens,) it will not 
only bee a good advancement to the office of the Revells, 
but will much civilize the people, who are commonly 
dissordered at those feasts, which are constantly at- 
tended with revelling and musick. 

4. All quack salvers and empyrickes, under the deno- 
mination of mountebankes, are properly belonging to 
the Revells, but will not come in (notwithstanding 
several summons') untill compelled by regall authority, 

5. The royall oake lottery, which is a modell or 
dumb shew, and sortition, and as cleerely belonging to 
the Revells as the small lottery or pricking bookj, 
which have (ab ant'guoj been commissioned by the 
office, the persons herein concerned are obstinate, and 
will not come in, unles compelled by his Majestic'* 
authority. 

6. For gaming, though the justices throughout 
England (amongst other things) bind the victuallers in 



[ IS? ] 

recognizances of £stO apiece, not to tolerate gaming in 
iheir houses ; yet, nevertheless, under their noses, aad 
to the knowledge of most justices, gaming is sett up 
and tolerated. Now in regard it is against the letter 
of the law to lycence gaming, (though to do the same 
is consistent with the Master of the Revells' patent,) 
it is desired, with some cautious lymitation, that his 
Majesty would countenance this particular, as to the 
lyceucing all upon easy termes, by which meanes 
every victueller may bee bound to observe lawfull sea- 
sons, and good orders, otherwise it will become a 
common custome to play on fast days, in time of divine 
service, and at other seasons prohibited ; and therefore 
some expedient to bee used that may please his Majesty, 
and support the power of the Revells, which hath beea 
very much enervated, and weakended by the late times 
of trouble and distraction. 

7. Though to grant lycences for gaming, hath been 
practised ever since his Majesty's happy returne, by 
the groome porter^ and Poyntz, yet as to my particular, 
(who have not enjoyed the employment above nine 
months,) I doe act under many feares, and with much 
tenderness, to those few who have submitted, least I 
should offend the law of the land ; and therefore once 
again e humbly desire, that some safe expedient may 
bee found out to reconcile the law and the King's 
prerogative. 

No. 6. 
A Prayer by Edward Lord Herbert, of Cherbury. 

O God ! Thou, by whose power and wisdome all 
things at first were made, and by whose providence and 
goodness they are continued and preserved, still behold, 
from thy everlasting dwellinge above, me thy creature 



[ 188 ] 

and inhabitant of this lower world, who, from thfs valley 
of change and corruption, lifting up his heart and eyes 
to thee his eternal God and Creator, does here ac- 
knowledge and confess these manifold blessings, these 
vast gifts bestowed on me ; as namely, that before I yet 
was, when I could neyther know nor consent to be 
great and good, thy eternall providence had ordained 
me this being, by which 1 was brought into this world, 
a living, free, and reasonable creature, not senseless or 
bruitish, but capable of seemge and understandings thy 
wondrous works herein ; and not only so, but of usinge 
and enjoyinge them, in that plentifull measure, wherein 
they have been hiiherto afforded me. O Lord^ with 
all humbleness i confess^ that were there no other pledge 
of thy favour than this alone, it were more than any of 
thy creatures in this life can possibly deserve. 

But thy mercies go farther yet. Thou hast not only 
made me see, know, and partake thy works, but hast suf- 
fered me to love thee for the blessings shewed us in them. 
I say, Thou hast admitted fraile dust and ashes to so high 
adignity as to love Thee, the infinite and eternall beauty. 
And not only disdainost it not, but acceptest, yea, and 
rewardest the same: and whence can this come, but 
from thy everlasting goodness, which, had it not 
vouchsafed to love me first, I could not have had the 
power (than which man has no greater) of loving Thee 
againe. Yet here thy mercies stay not. Thou hast 
not only given mee to know and love Thee, but hast 
written in my heart a desire even to imitate and bee 
like Thee, (as farre as in this fraile flesh 1 may;) and 
not only so, but many ways inabled me to the per- 
formance of it. And from hence, Lord, with how 
much comfort do I learne the high estate I received 
in my creation, as b6inge formed in thy owne simi- 
litude and likenesse. 



[ 189 1 

But, O Lord, thy mercies (for they are infinite) are 
not bounded even here. Tboii hast, then, not only 
given uiee the means ot knowinge, lovinge, and inii- 
tatinge Thee in this life, but hast given mee the ambition 
of knowinge, lovinge, and imitaiinge Thee after this 
life; and for that purpose hast begunne in luee a 
desire of happinesse, yea, of eternall bUsse, and from 
thence proceeded to give niee hope; and not only so, 
but also a faith, vi^hich does promisse and assure niee, 
that since this desire can come from none but Thee, 
nothing Thou doest can be in vain. What shall 1 saj^, 
then, but desire Thee, O Lord! to fulfill ii in thy 
good tyme, to mee, thy unworthy creature, who, in 
this flesh, can come no nearer Thee, then the desireing 
that TuortaUty. which both keeps mee from rhy abode, 
and makes mee most unlike Thee here. Amen, 

N. B. From the original, in the hand-writing of 
Edward Lord Cherbury. 



No. 7. 
A Prayer by King Charles L* 

Most gracious and raercifull God! who art the 
God of all mercies andxonsolations, looke upon us in 
mercy, not in wrath ; in judgment, not in fury. Spare 
us, good Lord ; spare thy people, whom Thou hast 
redeem'd with thy most pretious blood, and bee not 

* As the above beautiful and affecting prayer is not to be 
found either in the Eikon Basilike, or among " diverse of his 
*' Majestie's Prayers/' &c. &c. published m. 1649, there seems 
every probability that it is now irst presented to the public. 
The copy from which it is transcribed is in the hand-writing- of Sir 
Henry Herbert, who was the faithful friend and steady adherent 
of the unfortunate monarch.— /S'ee Wopd's Athence, v. ii. p 524. 



[ 190 ] 

angry with us for ever. If Thou should'st bee extreamc, 
O Lord, to niarke what is done amisse, who may abide 
it? But there is mercy with Thee, that Thou may*st 
bee feared : and in the multitude of thy mercies, doe 
away our otfences ; blotte out all our iniquities ; purge 
us with ysope, and wee shall bee cleane ; wash us, and 
wee shall be whiter than snow. Wilt thou bee dis- 
pleased at us for ever? and wilt thou stretch our 
thy wrathe from one generation to another ? Turn 
us, then, O God our Saviour, and wee shall bee turned, 
that thy anger may cease from us. Quicken us, that 
we may rejoyce in Thee. Speake peace, O Father, 
■unto thy sons, unto this people, " mountains of 
peace," which are thy " blessings of peace." Dispose, 
O Lord, our hearts to peace. Punnishe the enemies 
to our peace; punnishe the insurrection of evill doers; 
punnishe them that delight in warre; confounde all 
their devises, all their wicked imaginations, .that they 
may not prosper, but that the bones which Thou hast 
broken may rejoyce. Showe us againe, O Saviour, 
the light of thy countenance, and wee shall be whole. 
Helpe us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of thy 
name; deliver us-, and bee mercifuU unto us, for thy 
name^s sake, for thy son Jesus Christ's sake. G let 
the sorrowfull syghing of thyne afflicted and humbled 
people come before Thee. G let the faith full prayers 
of thy penitent and prostrate servants, offer a pleasinge 
•violence unto Thee, for the cryinge sins of this nation ; 
that thy Holy Spirit may descende upon them, who at 
this tyme are assembled for peace. Inflame, G Lord, 
their hearts with the desire and benefits of peace^ and 
renew right spirits within them. Direct all their con- 
sultations and councells for Thy honour, the good of 
this Church, and this kingdome; that mercy and truth 
being mett together, righteousness and peace may kiss 



r 191 ] 

each other; that being reconciled to lis, and wee to 
Thee, in Christ Jesus, Thou may*st bee our shep- 
herde, and wee the sheepe of thy pasture; givinge 
Thee thanks far ever and ever, and shewinge forthe 
thy prayses from generation to generation, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord and only Saviour. J men. 
Feb. 15, 1644. REX. 



No. 8. 

*^ Praiers and Meditations in Old Age^ 
By Sir Henry Herbert. 

O God, who art the antient of daies, and the 
Father of eternitie, Thou wiliest that in all seasons and 
ages thy children be disposed for deathe. How much 
more ought I to prepare my selfe ; F, O Lord, who am 
full of yeares, and have already one foote in the grave ? 
What is the exteriour man, which falls at tlie twinck- 
linge of the eye? Grant, therefore, that the interiour 
bee renewed daily; that this infirme body, which 
bowes towards the earthe, may instructe mee to raise 
my thoughts to heaven ; ttiat the age which hath 
wrinckled my foreheade and skyn, may blotte out the 
sins of my soule, and drive away the troubles and 
anxieties of my heart ; that the age which makes my 
knees to tremble, and my haires to bee graie, may 
fortifie my faith, and refreshe my hopes ; and that 
deathe, which treades on my heeles, may make me to 
embrace the Prince of Life ! 

O Governour of heaven and earthe, Thou seest the 
pitiful] condition to which I am reduced I begin to 
bee tmuhiesome to myselfe, and unproffitable toothers; 
my soule is aweary of my life, but rather of my de- 
caye, for I doe now but entertaine a dyinge life, or 



[ 192 ] 

rather a liveing deathe. My^Creator and my GodI 
I was put into thy protection before I was borne, 
and from my mother's wombe Thou hast been my 
powerful God! 'Tis Thou, God of bounties, who hast 
blessed my infancy, and crowned all my dales with 
th}' paternall grace, and with thy pretious favours. 
Leave me not in my weake and white age ; and now 
that my strengthe failes, bee Thou the rocke of my 
hearte, and the power of my life. My yeares are 
glided away as a flood of waters, and I am noe more 
but a shadowe of a shadowe that is no more. But 
Thou art alwaies like unto thyselfe, and thy yeares 
shall endure for ever. As thy being is without be- 
gininge, so it is without ende. Renewe my dales as 
those of the eagle ', reanimate and reheete these colde, 
dead ashes; but rather tender me thy hande from 
above, drawe me from this house, which is all rotten 
■with age, and withdrawe me into thy new Jerusalem. 
I liave loste the taste of meate and drinke on the 
earthe; it is time that Thou relieve me with the delicates 
of thy holy table, and make me drinke of the new 
wine of thy kingdome. I am already as out of the 
world ; my life holds only by a stringe. Lord, per- 
mit thy servant to go in peace accordinge to thy worde, 
for mine eies have scene thy salvation. 

Jpril the 6lh, — 72, at W^stmlnsier. 



Sir Henry Herbert'^ Graces. 

Grace before Dinner, 

O Lord, bless these thy creatures unto our use; 
make them wholsome for us, us thankfuU for them, 
through Jesus Christ our Lord and only Saviour, 



C 193 ] 

After Dipjier. 
God bee praysed; God save bis Churcbe, tbe Kinge, 
Queeiie, Royall Issue, and the Realms ; God forgive 
Ms our sins, and (make ns thankfull: or,) cease the 
plague amongst us. Amen. 

N.B. From the aiitogiaph of Sir Henry Herbert. 



No. 9. 

Notes and Observations by Sir Henry Herbert, during 
the Northern Expedition. — (MS.) 

April 12, 1639. 

AtYorke. fhe Lord Trequar, treasurer of Scotland, 
confined to his Chamber for three dales, but 
releast on Easter day, and sent for Scotland ; the 
Lord Dyate went with him. The cfowne and 

robes were taken at . 

The Covenanters tooke them, and in great 
ceremony bare the n away, and caryed them to 
the Castle of Edenbouroughe, wher they ought 
to lye,"^ 

* The Commissioaers under royal authority on Wednesday 
bpened the great iron chests in the Crown Room in Edinburgh 
Castle, and found the whole Regalia of Scotland in high order. 
They were found to contain the crown, sceptre, and sword of 
state ; and also a silver rod of office. — -So soon as the existence of 
these precious relics was ascertained, the royal standard was 
hoisted, and the soldiers cheered a salute, which v/as heartily 
echoed from the Castle Hill, where a numerous crowd had as- 
sembled, anxious to learn the event of the search after these in- 
teresting memorials, on the fate of which some mystery had been 
supposed to rest. The workmanship of the cro^n and sceptre is 
highly elegant, and in good taste ; the sword, a present from 
Pope Julius to James IV., is of a pattern corresponding to the 
excellence of the arts in Italy at that classical period. The 

N 



, t 194 ] 

Aberdyne taken by the Covenanters, and tlie 
Marquis of Huntleye chaste to his castle, 
whither he was followed, and wher he swore to 
the Covenant in 81.^ 

They tooke armes for 4000 men and muni- 
tion, which the King had sent to M. Huntley 
for the defence of Aberdyne. Marquis Hunt- 
ley had received from the Kinge ^^ 20,000. 

Not a blowe strucke ; the reason given by the 
Marquis was, that the towne was divided for 
the ICing and Covenanters, 

Lesley commandes 2500 foote, which are 
drawne towards Barwicke, and 600 horse. 

Marquis Huntley's son commandes a troope. 

When more men are put into Barwicke the 
Covenanters encrease their number with Lesley. 

The Covenanters offer to be tryed by the 
■Parliament of England, and to put in caution 
of £^200,000, to abyde their judgment. 

legalia were replaced in the chest: and the Commissioners 
resolved that they were not again entitled to open the crown- 
room, either to gratify their own curiosity, or that of the public, 
until they have made a report to the Prince Regent. — Bath 
Chronicle, I2th Feb. 1818. 

*"The covenant here si>oken of wsls the confession of Faith ^ 
'* and solemn league and coventmty drawn up in 1580 — ^1, and 
" subscribed by King James, and his Royal Household, March 
" the second in that year ; and by the whole Scots nation in the 
" year 1590, with a general hand, for maintenance of true religion, 
" and the King's person. This covenant (very different from 
" that sworn to by the Scots in February, 1637 — 8) included 
" nothing of a rebellious nature in it; and therefore might be 
" sworn to by the Marquiss without any breach of his allegiance. 
*' Indeed, the Marquiss of Hamilton had been authorized, by 
'* Charles himself, to subscribe this confession of faith (as it was 
" called) of 1580, when he M^as sent into Scotland in 1638."-—; 
Rushworlkj vol. i. part 2. p. 767. 



[ 195 ] 

The churchmen of England have not fur- 
nishte ^26jOOO, wboundertoke greater somes. 

That the D.^ of Ireland blowes the coales, 
and advisethe the way that is taken. 

That the busines passethe throughe two or 
three men's hands. 

That the Lords who are come to attende the 
Kinge have no respect shewed them, nor is 
their advise demanded. 

That the Lords refuse to parte with their 
horses and men. 

That my Lord of Northampton^ in the name 
of divers Lords, and in their presence, tould 
the Kinge, that they were come to Yorke, 
accordinge to the commande of his Mty's 
letters, and desired to . 

The declaration made by the Lordes upon 

oathe had these effects : 

King's deck- That the King expected only civill obedience 

the Petition of fr°^ his Scotclie subjects. That the King 

the Loids. ex pected the assistance of the Lords in defence 

only of England, and not for the invasion of 

Scotland, or any otiier countrye. 

To the hazard of life, *^ uttermost," and 
^'fortunes," left out. 

'Tis believed it will not bee offered to the 

TheEarleof amiV. 

Eal'^of'^' On Sonday the 21st of April, 1639, the 
Norriiarapcon,King scDt for the Lords that were at Yorke, 
Lord Wile? '^^ wayte upon him. And, before his Lords of 
LordPauiet, the Coimsell, gave them thanks for their 
tald EaT f^^^^^'"^"^^ attendanceon his person, butthat they 
NeA-port. might have expressed their duty at less charge. 
* The Deputy of Ireland, Lord StraJS'ord. 
o 2 



t 196 J 

Put them in minde of the disobedience of 
the Scots. 

Offered the Lords an oathe, which the 
Lords of the Councell tooke, and all the other 
Lords, but the Lord Sey and the Lord Brooke, 
who, for refusinge, were committed, my Lord 
Sey to the Lord Maiors, and the Lord Brooke 
to the Recorder's. 

■Whether the King was lawfull King of Scotland ? Havin ffC anSWCrcd 
Yes.— -Whether the Ouarrell was just? They . ,i 

knew not.-Whether they held intelligence ^OmC questions, they 
with the Covenanters, or receired any letters ? were SCnt homC froUl 

Some without designe. Yorke, and confined 

to their houses. 
Durham, Sir Jamcs Kermichel carryed away the 

The^eV the King's proclamation of grace, inclosed in 

Kinge re- my Lord of Essex's answer to the Cove- 
moved from „„„4.^..„ 
T> . nanters, 

Durham to 

Newcastle, Kings are bounde to mayntaine religion; 
and religion, Kings. 

King James tould King Charles on his 

death-bed, that he was bound to mayntaine the 

churche for God's sake, and even for his owne 

sake too; for when the church declyned, his 

power would declyne. 

The Lord Trequar told the Kinge, that, if 
his Majesty had a will to performe what he 
had promiste to the Covenanters, the best 
way was to acte it cheerfully, and with hand- 
someness to his people ; but if the King 
thought to outwitt them, he would bee 
deceived. 

King James sayde, that he who hath an ill 
tongue, had neede of good handes, 
AtNewcas- King Charles sayd, that his Deputy of 
Mav^e^Q. li'^^^^i^ had given him notice that the Scots 



[ 197 ] 

of Ireland, by petition, had desired the De- 
puty to give them, by oathe, or otherwise, a 
way to express their fidelity to the Kinge, and 
detestation to the Covenanters. 
King sayd The King sayd at the same tyme, that, 
htd^wol'n-^^s^y^^^'^ge ^y -t^o^d of Argile's discourse, 
Bcieoces, as he cal'd the Earles of Roxboroughe and 
f •'^h^c^d^f^'^^ Morton to bee witnesses, and puttinge 
myLordCob-the same questions to them, which his Ma- 
bam. jestye had formerly done to the Lord 

Argile they assured the Kinge of their lives 
and fortunes, in case that were made good : 
the lyke did the Lord Argile; but the Lord 
Hamilton, by the King's commande, dis- 
solving the assembly in the morninge, my 
Lord Argile went into the assembly in the 
afternoone. 

My Lord Hamilton's mother walkes Eden- 
boroughe streets with a case of pistols, and 
souldiers at her heeles, saying she goes to beate 
her son. 

My Lord Hume's servants were offered aa 
abatement of rent, if they would goe alonge 
with them ; but some desired a renewing of 
their estates, which caused my Lord Hume to 
disarme them. 
8rh May, A third son of my Lord of Huntley's came 
^ ^^' this day to the Kinge by sea, and offers 3000 

men, for the Kinge's service in the Northe, 
governed by Kilderoy, a rebell and outlawed 
person, and so are his men. 
He demaades raony and armes. 
Yesterday Seton came to the Kin^e, from 
this Lord, disguised as a fiddler. 



I 198 ] 

Two dayes before, a messenger was taken 
with letters for the Cardinal de Richlieu, by 
Sir Thomas Gleman, 
Texte: The K. hath commanded the Bishop of 
be'subjcic to -Durham to printe his sermon. A Lord tel- 
the higher line the K. that his sermon was not excellent, 
powers, ice. though he was a learned man, the K. replyed, 
that the Puritans of England had a great opi- 
nion of him, and that it might do some good 
among them. 
Scotche pro. Always to defende, is, not defende. 
^''^'' On Saturday the 11th, the Lord of Rox- 

burghe tould the K., at Newcastle, that his 
son, the Lord Carr, was turned Covenanter ; 
in the afternoone, the K. committed him to 
his chamber. 

On Monday the 13th, Lyon Kingof Armes 
for Scotland, brought the K. newes, that Sir 
James Kermichel was stayed by the Cove- 
nanters; and that he did not make procla- 
mation, because the Covenanters threatened 
to hange him. He was committed at the 
tyme. 
Scotche pro- ] am as near vou as your soule to the 
'^^'^ ' grounde ; meaninge, the sole of your shoe. 

The Kinge tould me '' that it was strange 
'^ the covenanters reported that they could 
*' not bee heard, when they never soughte him 
" but as one Sovereigne seekes another. 

" That the covenanters had deposed a 
^' minister for preachings on the Fifthe Com- 
** mandrnent; that it was unlawful for sub- 
*' jects to take amies against their Kinge. 

** That the reason of settinge up rulinge 
*' elders was to curbe the ministers," 



[ 199 ] 

May 16,1639. Sir James Hamilton brought a letter to the 

Kinge from my Lord Hamilton, written by 

the Lord Rothes to the said Marquis ; where 

the Lord Wrothes chargeth him to be the 

instrument of raischiefe happened to that 

kingdom ; calHnge him traytor divers tymes 

in it, and offers to prove it, 

EariofRut- The same day, the voluntary Lords, being 

Northampton,^^^*^^*^ the King, refused to make a troope of 

E. of Devon- their men. The K. being so gratious as to 

shire, E. of i^^y^ them to their owne way, they chose to 

Berkshire, . n "^ t , 

LordSaint put their men into several! troopes, and each 

John, Lord Lorde gave his opinion by turne; named his 

Lo°rd*Saviiie,*iumber of men, and the troope he would put 

L-Dunstane, them in. 

u Pauiet. jv^Q^ ^ j^^j,^ p^j^ ^^y ^^^ j^^^Q ^l^g General's 

troope, which troubled him. 

The General's orders were proclaymed the 
16th May. 
Confin'dto My Lord of Roxbourghe examined by the 
Secretarys of England and Scotland. 

The K. being persuaded not to venture his 
person and army against desperate men, 
answered, that he remembered what Cava- 
liero Swyfte had say'd^ being to fight with a 
man that had nothinge, '^ that he would not 
" venture a thousand pounds a yeare to no- 
« thing.'* 
May,Satur- The Kinge and army encamped at Gost- 

daythezi. ^j^^^^^ 

On Sonday I heard a sermon at the Holy 
Island with my Lord Brereton ; and 
May 27, On Monday, the Kinge and armye removed 

and laye down by the River Twyde, in sight 
of Scotland. 



the Maior's 
houfei 



[ 200 ] 



May ag. 



May 31. 



Two things 

learnt. 

Monday 
night, 3d 
June. 



On Wednesday night the Kinge laye in 
the field. 

My Lord General! went lo Dunse in Scot-? 
land, and brought away from my Lord Hume's, 
Witherington's evidences, w^hich gave my 
Lord Hume cause not to come in, tho' he had 
promist it under his hand. 

The Scots that are about the Kinge, seeme 
to hould their lande, by the tenure of givinge 
the covenanters intelligence of all that passethe 
in the Kinge's armye. 

The covenanters are cominge, but, 'tis in 
armes. 

To eate like houndes, and lye like dogs. 

My Lord of Holland, with 1*2 troopes of 
horse, 30Q0 foote, and 44 field pieces, was sent 
to charge the covenanters at Helsall, but 
apearinge stronge, he did not, and returned. 

He did outmarche the foote : was dared by 
the covenanters, who came marchinge towards? 
him, and made hipa quitt the grounde he was 
on. My Lord of Holland sent a trumpet tp 
knowe what they did so neare, contrarye to 
proclamation ? They answered, because he 
came so neare them; and that he had first 
broke the proclamation. He replyed by the 
trumpet, that lie did advise them to leave the 
place. 1 iiey answered, that it would bee best 
for him to doe so , and if ho did not remove, 
they would make him remove. 

The Duke of Lennox put the Kinge in 
mind of their modesty, that might have 
charged the reare of my L. of Holland's hor^e, 
and would not. The Kinge sayd, " it w^§ 
true." 



[ 201 1 

On Monday night, the 3d June, 1639, the 
^ Kinge dreamt, that Mr. Porter had brought 
Lesley to him to kiss his handes. 
The K. hath Jn the marche to Dunse, uiy Lord New- 
ordered it to ^j i^gjjj J- jjjjQ ^[-^Q j-eaj,^ 5^ ^hg Gene- 

my Lord of ? o r ^ 

Newcastle, rail of the Horse, told the Generall it was 
by precedent jj^g Prince's troope : but taking no notice of 
phin's troope this, he oi'dcrcd liim to marche in the reare; 
inFrance, to which he obeyed, but puU'd oiF the colours, 

Disputes 'twixt the Governor of Barwick 
and the Generall ; 'twixt the Generall and 
Generall of the Horse. 

To reduce the garrison to 1000. 

To give the souldiers no paye for extra- 
ordinary service. 

On Wednesday the 5th June^ Lesley 
apeared with his army near Duns. 

On Thursday, the Earle of Domfarlinge 
brought a petition from the covenanters to 
the Kinge, and kiste in his hande in comminge 
and goinge. 

The Knight Marshall was sent with him to 
the covenanters about seaven of the clock at 
ijight, 

To require them that the proclamation bee 
read : 

To remove the campe out of the Verge. 

The King was in counsell three hours before 
he resolved on this course. 

On Friday the Knight- Marshall returned 
to the Kinge, made a fair report of ther obe- 
dience to the Kinge's demands; that the pro- 
clamation was read ; and reade before Lesley, 
some few Lords, and a hundred parsons* 



L 202 ] 

They petitioned anew upon the Knight- 
Marshall's motion ; whereupon the King 
granted leave for their cominge on Monday, 
by eight of the clocke in the morning, to my 
Lord Generall's tent, with six persons only. 

This was signified for the K.'s pleasure, 
under Secretary Cooke's hande; but they 
desired it under the Kinge's, by my Lord 
Donfarlyn, and it was granted. 

On Tuesday the 1 1th June, they mett at 
my Lord Generall's tent, and the King's 
Counsell received them. They were no soner 
sett, but the K. went in amongst them, and 
debated the points in question, in most wise, 
just, and gratious maner. 

On Thursday they mett in the morninge, 
when the Kinge was present, and presented 
their demands in writinge. 

On Saturday the 15th, the K. gave them 
answer, which they accepted, and kiste the 
King's handes. 

The Earle of Wroth es, the Lord Lodoun, 
the Earle Donfarlyn, Sir William Duglas, 
sherifTe of Divedale, Mr. Henderson, Mr. 
Johnson Clarke, register to the Assembly ; 
these two last came in Thursday and Saterday. 

My Lord Wrothes tould the Kinge, that he 
would iinde three leaves in the booke Bel- 
canio, published in his name, wherein ther 
was not three lines of truth together. Offered 
to prove it; but was not caFd. 

To my Lord Wrothes desiringe the K. to 
declare ther should bee no bushops : *' You 
** would not have me innovate: and why should 



[ 203 ] 

<■' I determine that which is in question ? 
*' Your lawes may exclude them, but I will 
« not. 

"That suspicion was no just cause for 
*' subjects of takinge armes. 

" That no acte was committed, .but to 
satisfy ther desires, in taking away the ser j 
vice, booke, 8cc. 

*' That he was deceived in the characters 
of the men.'^ 

At Lesley's dinner, the priest that sayd 
grace had a carabyn on one syde, and a svvorde 
on the 'other; and being asked " why he was 
" so armed?" answered, ^^ to learne the trade 
** of a souldier." " That he would fighte or 
" preache with the bushops, but not drinke 
" or sweare." ^' That it was the Assembly of 
''Christ; and that Christ was above the 
*' Kinge, and that therefore the Kinge had 
" no power over it." The preachers enforce 
it "as Christ's cause; that they fight for 
*^ their salvation ; that as many as dye in the 
" cause, dye martyrs ; that the Kinge hath 
" power to indicte an assembly, but not to 
" dissolve it ; that the Kinge hath no nega- 
*^ tive voyce in it.'' 

7'he grace after dinner was halfe an bower 
long. 

One woman in Edinbroughe gave five hun- 
dred pounds Englishe to the minister for the 
busines. The women began the noyse against 
the bushops, and pursued it. 

The Covenanters paid 10,000 mensixe pence 
the day apeace, being prest men. Others had 



[ 20-1 ] 

two-pence and two loaves the day. No Cap* 

tayne tooke paye. All other men did 

beare ther owne charges. Not a man of ther 

army dead in six weekes, to the 19th June, 

the tyme they had been together. All thinges 

were done by comon consent and purse. 

Motto in ther colours : 

The Covenant. 

lor Rehgion. The Crowne. 

■The Countrye. 

The Lady Marques had three company s. 
In her flag was a woman dishevelled, with an 
anchor in her hande. Ne deseras, Domine, 
might have been the wordes. 

On Tuesday the ]8th June the peace was 
concluded; the articles, on the Kinge's part, 
signed by Secretary Cooke and Secretary Ster? 
linge ; on the Covenanters, by E. Wrothes, 
E. Dunfermlin ; and on Thursday the £0, the 
Covenanters discharged ther army ; the 21, 
dehvered Edinborough Castle to my Lord 
Hamilton, who put Generall Ryven into it. 
Other things performed. 



No. 10. 

A Grant of Wardship,* 

Charles Rex. — Whereas our Wardship of George 
Bennett, esq; is committed to the custody of our trusty 

* *"' Before the 32d year of King Henry VIII. wardships were 
*' usually granted as Court favours to those wto made suit for, 
" and had interest enough to obtain them.^' — Ritson, " During 
" the existence of the feudal tenures, on he death of any of the 
" King's tenants, an inquest of office, called TnquUitiopost mortem, 



[ 205 ] 

and well-beloved servant. Sir Henry Herbert, knight, 
at £Q00 per annum, under the seales of our Court of 
Wardes, and our great seale of England, aad that the 
greatest part of our said Warde's estate, as wee are cre- 
dibly informed, lyinge near our garisoa of Beau voir, 
inay, by industry, yield us our yearlye rents with the 
arrears, and our Committee, the rest of the proffits for 
the use of the Warde. 

You are therefore required by us to ayde and assist 
Sir Henry Herbert, knight, his assignee or assignees, 
■with such numbers of horse, as may enable him, his 
assignee or assignees, to collect and gather such monies 
out of our said Warde's estate, as are due to us, and to 
our Committee, for our Warde's use,^ and from tyme 
to tyme shall growe due to us and to our Comuiittee 
as aforesayd • wherein you shall doe us a very accepta- 
ble service. Given at our Court at Hereford, the sixthe 
day of September, in the one and twentieth yeare of 
our reigne, 1645. By his Majesti's command, 

EDWARD WALKER. 

To our trusty and weU-beloved Sir Gervase Lucas, 
knight and baronet, Governor of our Castle of Belvoir 
and to all officers under his command. 

*' was held,' to inquire of what lands he died seized, who was his 
"heir, of what age he was, &c.; and in those cases, where the 
" heir was a minor, he beca-me a ward of the crown ; the land 
" was seized by its .officers, and continued in its possession, or 
** that of the person to whom the crown granted it, till the heir 
*• came of age, and sued out his livery, or ousterlemaine, that is, 
" the delivery of the land out of his guardian's hands. To regu- 
" late these enquiries, wliich were greatly abused, many persons 
" being obliged to sue out livery from the crown, who were by no 
" means tenants thereunto, the Court of Wards and Liveries 
" was instituted by stat.32, Hen. VIII. c. 46:'— -Black, Com. ii, 
61, iii. 258.— Ma^we.— 'The Court of Wards was abolished in 
the reign of Charles II. 



[ 206 ] 

No. 11. 
The Protestation or Oaths administered by Prince RuperL 

I, A. B. beinge hereunto required, doe willingly and 
in the presence of Almighty God^ solemnly vow and 
protest as folio weth. 

J. That I believe noe power of Pope or Parliament 
can depose our Soveraigne Lord and Master Charles, or 
absolve me from my naturall allegeance and obedience 
unto his royall person and successors, 

' 2. That the two houses of Parliament, without the 
King's consente, have no authority to make lawes, or 
to binde or oblige the subjects by theire ordinances. 

3. Wherefore I believe that the Earles of Essex and 
Manchester, Sir Thomas Feirfax, Sir William Waller, 
CoUonall Massy, together with such as already have 
or hereafter shall take up armes, by authority and com- 
mission of the Members of Parliament att Westminster 
pretendinge to fight for Realme and Parliament^ doe 
hereby become actuall rebells ; and all such oughte, 
with all theire adherents and partakers, to be perse- 
cuted and brought to condigne punishment. 

4. That myself will never beare armes in theire 
quarrell; but, if I shall bee thereunto called, will assist 
my Soveraigne by his armies in the defence of his 
royall person, crown, and dignity, against all contrary- 
forces unto the uttermost of my life and fortunes. 

5. That I will not discover the secrets of his Ma- 
jesty's armies unto the rebells, nor hold any corres- 
pondence or intelligence with them, and all designes of 
theires against our Sovereignes armies, or for the sur- 
prisinge or deliveringe up the cittys of Worcester or 
Hereford, or of any other of his Majesty's fortes, I 



[ 207 1 

sball truely discover to whom it shall concerne, as soone 
as it comes to my knowledge. 

6. That his JMajestie's taking up armes for the causes 
soe oft by him declared in print, is wise and necessary, 

7. That I will endeavour to put down all popular 
tumults, risings, rendevous, meetings, confederacys, and 
associations of the people, i n any of the townes, hundreds, 
or countyes, which are not warranted to assemble by 
his Majestie's express comission, or by power derived 
from him, by virtue of his commissions, and in the 
sense he means itt. 

8. I doe from my harte deteste that seditious and 
trayterous late-invented nationall covenant; and I 
protest never to take itt. 

All these particular articles I vow and protest sin- 
cerely to observe, without equivocation or mental re^ 
servation. So helpe me God ! 

This is a true copy of the protestation taken at 
Hereford by Prince Rupert's commande, in 1645, whilst 
I was goveinour of Hereford; and the sayd protes- 
tation was taken by John Boraston, parson of Ribbes- 
ford, att a Councell of Warre in Hereford, in my pre- 
sence. 

Dec, t5th, 1646. B. SCUDAMORE, 

Copy of another Paper. 

On Sonday the 18th Septemb. 1642, the Parlament 
forces, commanded by Collonell Tynes, came to the 
gates of the citty of Worcester, about eight of the 
clocke in the morninge, and made an assault upon the 
gate that leeds for London, when they had many men 
slaine by the souldiers in the citty, commanded by Sir 
Tho. Litleton and Sir John Byron ; and after some two 
bowers fighte, retyred towards Auster. 



t ^08 ] 

On Thursday, the Kinge sent into Woster 20 tfopeg 
of dragoneers; and on Friday, the Prince Robert, 
general! of the horse, went from Bewdley, wher he laye 
on Thursday night, and enter'd Woster about twelve 
of the clock. 

The townsmen of Bewdley were disarmed, and fyned, 
which was payd, and came to — , for their ill behaviour 
in the execution of the duties of militia* 



No. 12. 

Articles exhibited against John BoRAsfoN, ctarike, ty 
divers of the Parishioners af Rihseford. 

That the said John Boraston lived in the late 
King's quarters from the yeare 1642 untill 1646, and 
enjoyed the profRts of his rectory all the time that the 
said county was under the powers of the late Kinge, 
when all well-affected ministers to the Parlament 
quitted their meanes and residence in the said county. 

Thatthesaid Boraston went voluntarily fromhislivinge 
in Wostersheir, to the late King*s garrisons at Oxford, 
Worcester, and Hartlebery, and into his quarters before 
Giocester, and was very conversant with the late King's 
Commissioners for Worcestersheir. 

That the said Boraston did officiate second servise at 
the alter, so called j in the chapell of Bewdley, with his 
surplus and hood, in June l644, or thereabouts, notwith- 
standinge an ordinance of Parliament to the contrary. 

That the said Boraston enjoyed two spirituall livinges 
inlfi47, contrary to an Acte of Parlament, and received 
the proffits of both the said livinges, the one beinge in 
Wosterbheir, the other in Shropsheir. 



[ 209 ] 

That the said Boraston gave warninge to his parish- 
oners of Ribsford, in the church of Ribsford, to observe 
the 25th day of December, in l648, comonly called 
Christmas Day; and that the said Boraston would give 
them a sermon on the said day. And havinge assem- 
bled some of the parishoners, preached unto them on 
the said day, in the said churche, and exhorted them 
to the observance thereof, notwithstandinge an ordi- 
nance of Parlament to the contrary. 

That the said Boraston hath not only raysed the 
duties payd by the parishioners to his predecessors, 
incumbents, butexactesnewdutis upon his parishioners. 

That the &aid Boraston hath left his parishioners 
many times without a sermon on the Lord's day, and 
preacheth only in the morninge on the Lord's day, 
when hee, the said Boraston, doth preach, though the 
neighbourding doe preach constantly twise every 
Lord's day. 

That the said Boraston frequents taverns and ale 
bowses, and countenancethe an unlicensed alehowse in 
Ribsford, by his frequent being there, which occasioneth 
great disorders all the weeke, but especially on the 
Lord's day. 

That the saide Boraston lives from the parsonidge, 
and hath done so for all the time of his being rector 
there, whereby the soules of his parishioners are neg- 
lected in sickness and in health, and the pore unreleived. 

No. 13. 

Aditionall Articles exhibited against John Boraston, 
cleike, by diverse of the Parishoners of Ribsford in. 
Wostershire. 

That the sayd Boraston d!-d voluntarily lende several! 
sumes of money to the King's Commissioners at 
Woster against the Parliament. 

o 



r 210 ] 

That the said Boraston went voluntarily from his 
liveinge in Wostershire, to the King's Courte in GIos- 
tershire, and to the King's army lyeinge before Glos- 
ter; ahd held intelligence with the Lord Viscount 
Falkland, then Secretary to liis Maiest3^ 

That the said Boraston continued in Wostershire 
whilst it was under the King's comand, and injoyed 
the profitts of his liveinge, when all well affected 
ministers to the Parliament left theyr liveings, and 
they r profitts. 

That the sayd Boraston hath not administered the 
Sacrament io the parish church of Ribsford, or in the 
chappell of Bewdley, for the five yeares last past, or 
thereabouts. 

That the said Boraston, notwithstandinge, doth 
receave Easter duties and offerings joe called from the 
said parishoners, and threatenes others of the said pa- 
ri shoners for refusing to pay. 

That the said Boraston is of a very proud and con- 
tentious spiritt, and doth lord it over his parishoners^ 
callinge honest men knaves, and honest women witches^» 

THOMAS DAWSON. 

A private Communication to Lord H. Herbert. 

A Relation of what passed betweene the Lord Sidney 
and Sir Rowland Gwynne, before the Privy Councill, 
on Thursday ApriUlth, 1692. — The Queen present. 

Sir Rowland Gwynne being called in, the Lord 
President sayd, 

Sir Rowland Gwynne, tlie Queen expects you will 
now give her Maiesty a further accompt of what you 
sayd to her Maiesty concerning the sale pf offices in 



[ 211 } 

Ireland, and my Lord Sidney's receiving bribes for 
them. If it be true, it is a great dishonour to her 
Maiestie's government, and to that Lord ; but if it be 
not soe, it is fit the matter should be cleared. 

SirR. Gwjnne. My Lords, what I sayd to her 
Maiesty was in conscience of my oath, which I tooke 
when their Maiestyes honoured me with being their 
servant. I have done nothing but my duty. 1 intended 
their Maiestyes service, without designing the hurt of 
any body. 

Then applying himself to the Queene, he sayd, 

I have as great deference for your Maiesty as any 
subject ever had for any Prince ; but I hope your 
Maiesty did not apprehend what I sayd to your Maiesty 
soe as to think I did intend to become an accuser of 
my Lord Sidney. If I had the misfortune to offend 
your Majesty in what I sayd, I am infinitely sorry for 
itt^ and knowing the integrity of my heart, shall yet 
hope to satisfie your Maiesty, that in this affaire 1 have 
most sincerely sought your Maiestyes service, and 
nothing else. 

Then speaking to the Lords : 

But, my Lords, I have noe complaint to make to 
your Lordshipps against my Lord Sidney; nor did I 
ever intend to make any to your Lordshipps. If I had 
any complaint to make, your Lordshipps know that 
my Lord Sidney is a Peer of England, and, a Parlia- 
ment sitting, is not obliged to answeare here or in any 
other place but Parliament; soe that i think nobody can 
reasonably expect 1 should make a complaint, if 1 had 
any, where it carmot be indulged. 

Upon this there was silence for neare a quarter of 
an houre, and at last the Lord Sidney sayd, 

Sir Rowland Gwynne, when you were at my house, 
and I repeated to you what the Queen had told me you 



[ 156 1 

sayd to her Maiesty, and desired yoii would produce the 
author of this report before the Councill, or I must 
charge you with itt, I thought you intended to bring 
witnesses against me. 

Sir R. G. — I did not tell your Lordshipp 1 would, 
that I know of. 

Lord Sidney, — I cannot say you did in words, but I 
understood you soe. My Lords, I desire Mr. Poultnej 
may be called in, to tell you all what passed betweene 
me and Sir R. Gwynne, 

Sir R, G. — My Lords, if there is any accusation 
against me in due forme of law, to which I am bound 
to answeare, I doubt not to cleare myselfe; but if there 
be none, then I know not to what purpose this witness 
should be called in against me. If your Lordshipps 
think such an examination legall, I must submitt to it 
for the present. 

Lord President. He is not to be called in against 
you, but to satisfye her Maiesty. 

Upon this Mr. Poultney was called in. 

Lord President. — Now he is come in, I know not to 
what purpose, nor what to say to him. 

Lord Rochester. — I suppose he is called in to con- 
firme what passed betweene my Lord Sidney and Sir 
R. Gwynne. 

Mr. Poultney. — I was sent for by my Lord Sidney 
on Wensday morning, the 23d of March last, to testifye 
>vhat should passe betweene my Lord and Sir R. 
Gwynne; m}^ Lord having sent to Sir R. G. to desire 
him to come and speake with him. 1 was there before 
Sir R. G. came, and followed him into my Lord's 
roome, and perfectly remember all was sayd, being 
prepared to charge my memory with itt. My Lord 
sayd, Sir Rowland Gwynne, the Queen hath told me 
that you have accquainted her Maiesty it is publicly 



[ 2J^ 1 

5ayd, that all places are sould in Trelanrl; and when she 
bid you speake to me of itt, vou sayd I was the raost 
improper person to be applied to in this case, for if the 
places were sold, who but 1 could receive the money 
for them. 1 must justifie myself herein before the 
councill, and I desire you will produce 3^our authority 
for this report bsfore the councill, or 1 must charge 
you with itt. 

A\X which Sir R. Gwynne seem'd surpriz'd, but said 
little to itt. 

Sir R. G. — My Lord President, 1 desire your Lord- 
ship will please to ask this gentleman, whether I sayd 
to him, or to my Lord Sydney, that my Lord Sidney 
had sold places, or received bribes. 

Lord Sidney and Poultney. — Noe, you did not say soe. 

Sir R. G. — I desire you will please to ask this gen- 
tleman, if I owned to my Lord Sidney the words he 
repeated to me. 

Mr. Poultney. — Noe, you did not acknowledge thein 
to be spoke by you, but I thought you did tacitely 
owne them. 

Sir R. Gwynne. — It is very strange, that if a man 
says nothing, he shall be said tacitely to owne whatever 
is talked to him. 

Lord Sidney. — Sir Rowland Gwynne, Sir Henrv 
Vane and M. Murrey have told me, that you saide to 
them I had solde a place for seven hundred pounds. 

Sir R. G. — My Lords, I know them both, and belieye 
them honest gentlemen. I doe not remember I told 
them soe, and desire they may be called in. But I 
suppose this may be meant of 7001. 1 spoke to the 
Queen about, which was given to a custom-house officer. 

Lord President. — Pray, Sir Rowland Gwynne, tell 
us if you have any thing that you can accuse my Lord 
Sidney of. 



[ ^M ]. 

Sir R G. — My Lords, I have nothing that I shall 
accuse my Lord Sidney of before your Lordshipps. 

Then Sir R. G. withdrew, and about an houre after 
was called in. 

Lord President. — Sir Rowland Gwynne, some of the 
Councill understand, that you accused my Lord Sidney 
of receiving ;^700 for an office in the Custom-house; 
but I think itt a hardship, that any gentleman's wordg 
should be ujdged till he explaines them. 

Sir R. G. — My Lords, 1 am sorry my words should 
be soe mistaken, for I meant nothing of that nature, as 
I will imediately satisfye your Lordshipps. 

When her Maiesty was pleased to honour me with 
the audience whence the businesse had its sole rise, I 
came to acquaint her Maiesty that I had information 
brought me of their Maiestyes being cheated of a 
French ship of great value; that the person who came 
to me undertook to prove into what Laiids the guods 
were delivered, and did not doubt but to make the whole 
matter soe clearly appeare, that their Maiesiyes might 
recover their value by the end of next tearme; that 
the said ship had been seised at Scilly for their Maies- 
tyes, but was released by a Custom-house officer there, 
for a bribe of 700l. which he could prove. 

Lord Newport. — Sir Rowland Gwynne, before you 
goe, pray tell us if you can say any thing of my Lord 
Sidney's taking money for any places in England, Scot- 
land, or Ireland. 

Sir R. G. — I have nothing that I think fitt to say 
further to your Lordshipps. 

Then Sir R. Gwynne withdrew. 

FINIS, 



printed by Richaril CruttwcU, 
St. James's-btieet, Bath. 



Lately published, in 1 vol. 8vo. 10s. 6d. boards, 

Original ^tetters, 

FROM 

BicJiard Baxter, Mattheio Prior, Lord Bolinghroke, Alexander 
Pope, Dr. CJityne, Dr. Hartley, Dr. Satnu»l Johnson, Mrs, 
Montague, Rev, William Gilpin, Reu. John Newton, Georgf. 
Lord Lyttleton, Rev. Dr. fJlaudius Buchanan, ^'c. ^'c. 

WITH 

BIOGRAPHICAL ILLUSTRATIONS'. 

EDITED BY 

REBECCA WARNER, 

Of Beech Cottage, near Bath. 



NOW IN THE PRESS, 

/fnd will be published in March-, 

epistolary Curiosities ; 

SERIES THE SECOND ; 

CONSISTING OF 

UNPUBLISHED LETfERS, 

Of tlie beginning of the Eighteenth Ccnturj, 

Illustrative of the BERBER T Family: 

The latter :find of King William's, and the early Fart of 

Queen Anne's Reign; 

FROM 

.Lord Herbert ; King William; the Duke of Shrewihiry ; the Dulie 
of Newcastle; Qmen Anne; Lord Godolphin; Lord, Somers; 
Lady Inchiquin ; the Duke of Marlborough ; Joseph Addison; Dr. 
Robinson; William Gregg; Sfc, ^'c. 

With NOTES. 



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